


The Green Games

by FrostedGemstones22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-01-25 13:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 39
Words: 285,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1650356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedGemstones22/pseuds/FrostedGemstones22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was 13, and the rebellion had to come before its time. When he failed, Voldemort had the children fight to the death. Now, it's a sick game for the Purebloods who sacrifice students each year to see who will win and keep their magic past the age of maturity. The others will perish. Only one can win, yet Hermione is going to try to save them all. Even the Slytherins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

On the day of the choosing, Hermione was curled up, legs to her knees, in the library. She was reading about plants today, plants that may just save someone from life or death. She did this every year for the past four years, without fail. Well, not necessarily the same topic, but she retreated to the library and lost her where no one would disturb her.

Looking out the windows of Hogwarts, she wished it gave the same feeling of comfort it once had. But now all the trees seemed brittle, all the grass seemed less green, and the water didn't shimmer in the sunlight. The glass was dirty from a lack of cleaning, and the whole of her body felt as if she was about to barf. For the fourth year, she felt ready to give up magic completely.

If she ran into the muggle world, with her parents, they couldn't hurt her. She could hide. She could snap her wand. She could be safe. If she left now they'd never know. Run to the forest, and apparate and be gone before they could catch her.

It was too soon when the bells rang in the school, too soon for those death kneels to announce the death of so many students, people she knew. People she loved.

The whole area was silent, just the sound of padding feet echoed in the halls, with the occasional crying of a younger child. The first years were lucky, though, and shouldn't worry like Hermione did. As a seventh year, she was one step of being closer to getting out, but so much more likely to get in.

She saw Ron across the courtyard, the first time since Friday and they shared nervous looks. His hands were wringing incessantly, like he was trying to wash the skin away. But he smiled at her, his very Ron-like smile, and Hermione was nearly tempted to run over to him. The punishment if she did, though, which she was reminded of by the black-hooded people, would be severe.

The Death Eaters sat stone-like around the courtyard, and Hermione glared at each as she passed. A hand slipped into hers. She saw Ginny at her right, who was biting her lip. She squeezed Ginny's hand, but the expression on the girl didn't falter.

"Maybe, maybe it will be me today." She whispered, like she had every year. Hermione knew this was a two-way situation. Half of Ginny wanted to be picked-Hermione knew she'd win, or get pretty damn close, but the other half wanted to get as far away as she could. Hermione felt wholly of the latter.

"Maybe this year, it will be any of us." Hermione reminded, "Even me."

"Mudblood wouldn't last a day." Someone sneered from behind her. Blaise laughed, as did Crabbe and Goyle. The Slytherins came to this as a joke, very few found fear in this day or the event to follow. She wanted to wring their necks. But it was true; people like her never lasted long. Her heart clenched painfully.

"Shut up, Zabini! How'd you like your name picked." Ginny spun on her heels, her hands flying to where her wand was. Hermione grabbed her arm, and forced her friend away. If she even shows her wand to them, even casually, she'd be up there killed without any time to defend herself. Zabini threw a smile over at her, because he knew this. And even her words were weak; Slytherins weren't picked. Slytherins were never in.

She wondered where Malfoy was, and saw him sitting by his father, on the stage. He was probably practicing for his new job, she thought bitterly.

Hermione was ushered into a line where a masked man waved a wand over her hand, drew some blood, and her body hummed. It was the pact; the no getting out way to keep the tributes before anything rash could happen.

It hurt like a second-degree burn each year.

Then she stood at the bottom of the podium, hanging back near Ginny and Luna who had appeared to her other side. The three gazed up at the number of orbs on the stage. 24. How would it be happening this year?

The whole of students fell quiet. She looked around, and saw faces she knew and knew that may be dead at the end of the summer. Teach the kids Voldemort's brainwash crap for a year, then kill off some of the students in these idiotic 'games' at the end of each. Remind people that even when school is out, in the summer, he's still there. His power is always there.

There was a clacking of heels and a flash of gaudy pink. Umbridge waltzed to the stage, giggling and nodding to the officials that sat with the Malfoys in the front. The microphone was on, and she tapped it twice.

"Hello? Hello?" Her voice reverberated around the courtyard, "Well, welcome to the fourth annual Green Games!"

They way she said it, it sounded like spring and beauty and nature. But Hermione knew that green was not all so. She knew the name was because of the horrible green one saw right before they died from the Avada. She knew it was because of the color of Nagini, who sat before Voldemort and all his other snakes that so loved the color of his house. She knew it was because of the poison that turned green and made the drinker lose their mind. She knew it was green like the weeds in the garden, like each tribute, that was plucked from the crowds and killed in the most horrible way possible.

Green was not the color of life anymore; it was the color of death.

Umbridge began the history of the Green Games, and Hermione's heart twisted painfully.

It had been her third year, and Voldemort had returned. There had been a group of older children from Hogwarts that had formed a rebellion from getting information from the Order. Harry, thirteen-year-old Harry hadn't known better. He'd just wanted to be a hero, to help, to save lives. The plan failed. Voldemort rose to power that year, and twelve kids from fourth-year to seventh-year were brought out in front of the parents, students, teachers and everyone else at Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley cried to see Charlie- who had graduated, but was the eldest and the one who spearheaded the attack, and Percy.

He should have killed them right there. Executed them. But his lip curled, and his smile was deadly as he said he had decided on a better punishment. A fight to the death between the children. Whoever won would gain his favor and be spared and kept safe for the rest of their life. Every student had to watch. Every family mourned.

At first, there was no fighting. But something snapped in one of the minds of a Ravenclaw. That was all that was needed, along with a couple disasters or horrors, for the bloodbath to begin. Harry, the youngest, hadn't won. Oliver Wood did.

The next year, they hadn't expected the same, but Voldemort said they need to be reminded of it. They had to pay for the rebellion with more children. And it evolved to be the Green Games.

Voldemort, by the second time, had united Beaubaxtons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts into one school. He sorted the students of the first two into houses, and therefore many of the faces Hermione saw were children she did not know. There was never a set number of how or who would be chosen, just that she knew that being a female, Gryffindor, and a Muggle born put her in hot water every year.

She was sickened by it. Now, now Purebloods loved the sport. They treated it like it was only a game, only good fun. They took bets on who would win, gave money to those they liked, and made a spectacle of it. It was only people like the Weasleys and the Longbottoms that saw the games for what they were and refused to take part of it. Because of that, she thought, it seemed the games were slowly killing off each Weasley until there would be none less. Fred was lucky enough to be a Victor the second year, and Bill was safe because he was far too old. Percy, Charlie, and George were gone though. It was only time, probably this year, where either Ron or Ginny- maybe even both- were chosen. Being a seventh year, her name was in there seven times. And she didn't have to do the math; there were only a handful of female Gryffindors to choose from.

"This year, Voldemort has chosen to change the games." Big surprise, Hermione thought. The second year, they picked from a bowl of children. The third year, they took away wands. It was only expected that he would change another part this year.

"Voldemort would like to remind us that none of us are safe; that at any corner could be betrayal. That only he can be the one to keep us safe, not even those closet to him. This year, Slytherins will be added to the games as well."

Bedlam. That's all Hermione could think. Utter chaos. She looked around; some were yelling, some were fighting to the front. She swung her gaze up. Malfoy looked petrified.

Once the crowd had quieted, Umbridge continued. "We will have 24 tributes. Twelve girls and twelve boys. A muggle born, pure-blood, and half-blood from each house."

This hadn't changed her chances, but she was pleased to see the terror rising on the faces of many Slytherins. Blaise looked ready to puke, and Lucius had disappeared in a flutter of his robes, presumably to go and talk to Voldemort- who didn't dare make an appearance here today.

"Shall we begin?" Umbridge giggled, and beneath each bowl lit up a line of figures. Under the first was BHP. Boy-Hufflepuff-Pure.

Her fingers floated around the bowl, fishing for a ticket, like the best would magically pop into her hands. Hermione would have been surprised, of course, had it been magically altered.

Umbridge returned to the Microphone, broke the seal, and opened her lips. "Ernie McMillian." Hermione gulped. Ernie was a good guy. Strong hands, worked on a farm, moderately smart. He was handsome though, and a couple girls in the crowd began to cry. Good guys like him shouldn't have to die.

The choosing continued.

Two former Durmstrang boys- the Pure-blood and Muggle Born- were chosen for Ravenclaw. Ron was picked for the Gryffindor pureblood, nothing much that she hadn't expected. It still hurt, but those numbers were dwindling too. Ron's whole face was pale and dead as he was escorted to stage, a permeate look of horror slapped on his expression. Ginny's hand tensed, and her lips trembled.

Seamus was chosen too, along with Colin Creevy. Better him than his brother Dennis. While it was unusual for smaller children to be chosen, it happened, and they died quickly into the games. Once, two years ago, someone volunteered for a third year who began to cry on stage. Other than that, no one else had ever offered to be part of these games.

Next was the Slytherins. Her hands went to the Muggle born ones first. It was a kid from Durmstrange she didn't know. He looked stringy, though. He would hardly last a day, she reckoned. But perhaps there was cunning she couldn't see. He was in Slytherin after all.

Blaise was picked for the half-bloods. She hadn't known he was one, and the shame on his face and surprise on the crowd told her no one else had either.

Umbridge's fingers twirled around the Pure-bloods. She looked around. Crabbe and Goyle looked ready to kill. Their massive hands would easily crush skulls if they were picked. They were sadistic and devoid of any humanity anymore- they were monsters. If they were picked, it would be the bloodiest games yet.

Umbridge plucked a paper, and opened it with her fat fingers. Something in her eyes gleamed.

"Draco Malfoy!"

Lucius, who was just returning, froze on the steps to the podium. Draco was pale as a ghost, and he looked fearful. For once, he didn't look like a man; he looked like a child. Someone, a Death Eater pushed him forward. Lucius was now enraged, and had pulled Umbridge aside.

"I pulled his name, Malfoy." She was saying, because Hermione was near the front and could read her lips, "If no over offers, then he is in the games." Hermione's head whipped around to Crabbe and Goyle. They didn't move. No one did. Draco was shoved in front of his bowl, next to Blaise, all fancy in his suit. He looked out of place.

Next came the females. Hufflepuffs. Hermione knew these more intimately than the boys picked. It seemed that it was rigged for the seventh years, and her felt something inside of her die in the way they would at each name.

Luna was chosen for the pureblood Ravenclaw. Ginny wouldn't let her hand go, and Hermione had to pry it away. Ginny had turned to one of her classmates, a Pureblood Ravenclaw and began to cry and ask why she wasn't volunteering. Luna was part of the flame that was undetected at Hogwarts. It was something that all those loyal to Harry had been with; secretly rebelling in every way they could since his death. To show that they would still win. Luna was one of the best she was fearless. She was too good to die.

The youngest was chosen for the Muggle-born Ravenclaw. Elizabeth Archibald was chosen at the age of 13. She was a run for Hermione's money in the brains department, and Hermione felt a tug at her heart when she walked past, head held high and kissed her twin brother good-bye on the cheek.

Slytherins next, perhaps so she could move the choosing along if there was another scene. She hadn't known Pansy was half-blooded, like Blaise had been. She snapped at people who made comments, and had to be restrained by a Death Eater when her hands went to someone's neck.

"Oh, plenty of time for that in the games!" Umbridge tutted with a laugh.

The Gryffindors. Lavender for the pureblood. She looked terrified, Hermione thought. She twirled her hair and held back sobs, checking her make-up to be sure it hadn't run all the way up to the stands.

A girl who had attended Hogwarts for a year, then transferred to Beaubaxtons, then ended right back up in Hogwarts took the stage for the half-bloods.

Lastly came the Muggle-born. Umbridge waited a painfully long time to choose, because everyone was itching to know the last name chosen. She curled her fingers around a paper.

"Not Hermione, please no." Ginny whispered, squeezing Hermione's hand tight. Hermione silently prayed with her.

"Our last tribute will be…Artemis Lapun!"

"Yes!" Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, but Hermione moaned in horror.

"No…"

For a second, there wasn't any movement. Then the crowd near the back parted, and a first year was avoided like a disease. She tried to back up, but was pushed forward by her classmates. Her black hair shook as she started to hyperventilate, and tears ran down her flushed cheeks. Death Eaters began to move forward to grab her, and Hermione searched the crowd widly. She had two older sisters. Her heart clenched with anger when she found the third year, Scarlett Lapun, who just looked at her sister with sorrowful eyes. Okay, she was thirteen. Thirteen year olds shouldn't die either. She searched madly for the seventh year, who had previously gone to Beaubaxtons, Blair Lapun. The eldest Lapun made her enraged. Blair was talking to a fellow Ravenclaw, with a look that said 'she'll be dead soon.'

Neither offered themselves up. Neither sister moved.

It seemed Ginny knew what was happening before Hermione did. She grabbed Hermione's arm.

"No! Hermione, just five more seconds, and you never have to worry about being picked again! This is suicide! Please, Hermione. Not you too!" Hermione had shrugged her off though, and broke the crowd as Artemis passed by, half-dragged by the Death Eaters. Everyone looked at her.

"I'll take her place. I'll take her place. I offer to." Hermione spoke before she knew what she was saying. It all happened so fast. Artemis cried and ran, hugging her and burying her face in Hermione's skirts. People began to whisper. Artemis was yanked away and Hermione was pushed toward the stage.

"Well this is exciting!" Umbridge fluffed her hair, "Hermione Granger, is it?"

"Yes." Hermione said, swallowing bile. Umbridge had busted her a couple times in the school. There was a look of triumph in the woman's eyes.

"And we have our last student." She announced, and Hermione finally looked around.

Oh my god. She'd have to kill them. Her friends, her dearest friends. She'd have to kill them or watch them be killed in front of her. Merlin, how did this happen?

Ron looked at her, and there were a thousand unsaid words in his eyes. Hermione didn't hear the clapping as she closed her eyes and tried not to start crying. When she opened, and looked around, she saw everyone's cheeks were stained with slip-away tears too.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…I read the hunger Games books and all and I was a fan. Not a huge, fan, but I liked 'em. Then…the movies came out. And then I read the Black Games, which is a Zutara of the same basic idea, so if you like ATLA go check that one out. Anyway this was born. Sure it's been done a couple times, but eh, whatever.
> 
> Anywho, the last week I've been obsessed over HG fanfiction. I'm a Catoniss fan, if anyone in the crowd is with there with me.
> 
> There will be character death. And some violence. I can't promise it will be Dramione all the way through though, because I'm not sure where the plot bunnies will take me. Right now it is, but hey- by the end maybe it will be HermionexSeamus, or HermionexFred, but I am pretty positive it will be Hermione/Draco. I dunno, we'll see what the characters are like. Hope you enjoy the second chapter.

The group was promptly ushered off the stage. Hermione fell numbly in step between Ron and Luna.

"That was so brave." Luna whispered in her ear, but Hermione brushed her away.

"You'll have time to say good-bye to friends now," Umbridge said, "Each of you in a room, a couple minuets then off to the trains to go back to London! Your things are being collected from your rooms as we speak." She pushed Hermione into the first open room. The door was shut behind her. It was the old divination room- she bit back a cry as she remembered storming out when she was thirteen. Back before Voldemort had rose. When everything was…normal. The room looked the same as she recalled. It hadn't been touched in years though, so there was a fine film of dust over all the soft cushions. She sat on the least dusty, and a puff of smoke rose when she sat.

She watched the door. Who would come to say good-bye?

Ginny burst through first, and half-strangled Hermione with a hug.

"How dare you, how dare you?" Ginny asked into her hair.

"Gin…" Hermione sighed. Ginny pulled back.

"Hermione, this is suicide." She said hollowly.

"I had to." Hermione became defensive, "Would you have sent a child who turned 11 only a couple months ago to die?" She asked harshly.

"No. But she had sisters." Ginny's eyes flared.

"You didn't look at them, did you? They weren't going to say anything. I knew it, I knew it. I had to say something. If you had seen their faces, you'd understand."

Ginny looked unsure. "Hermione, the games aren't the only place we have to survive in. We have to survive the pickings too, I only have a year left. Things have changed since we were young. It's a tragedy for a 11-year old to die, sure. But is this worth it? Is your life worth hers?" She asked.

"Ginny, don't say that. I wouldn't be able to watch her be killed." Hermione reasoned, "I'm smart…I can…I can survive this."

"You're not a killer though." Ginny took her hands gently, "These hands are for gripping book spines, not necks."

"None of us are killers." Hermione argued, "Not even the Slytherins."

"I'd beg to differ. Pansy's nasty- she'd sooner kill someone than let them even be a tiny bit above her. Guess she has to now, has to protect her integrity now that we know she's a half-blood and all."

"She won't go down easily." Hermione sighed in agreement. Ginny stared hard at Hermione.

"You've just accepted this, haven't you?" She murmured.

"What else can I do?" The question hung in the air.

"Fight." Ginny's voice rumbled, "Fight for me, and Harry. Goddamn, don't be one of their puppets. Don't let me loose everyone in these sick games. Not you, not Ron, not Luna…" her voice hitched, "You're all leaving me." She sounded child-like, a first year again, "And I'll be forced to watch you kill each other."

"If I win, then you'll have me again. Ron could win, or Luna. Both are good fighters. Then you wouldn't be loosing them."

"No, I'm loosing all of you now. This is the last time I see my Hermione Granger. If you win, you'll be the game's. They will change you. You won't be yourself, you'll be whatever depraved state is left. I know—I see Fred every Friday, but it's not Fred, not my Fred, anymore."

The door opened as Hermione fished for words.

"Time's up." The guard said, and stepped forward to grab Ginny. She gave Hermione one last hug, so tight it hurt. Those were the best hugs from Ginny, though. It meant she cared.

"Win, Hermione. Don't kill anyone. You're better than this." She whispered, and Hermione sighed.

"I can't promise anything."

She was left alone again, and something chilled inside of her. It was a couple minutes when the next person appeared. Neville.

"Hermione!" He said, "Hermione, you're too good for your own good." He chuckled, but it was forced.

"Neville, I don't know what I was doing." She admitted.

"You were doing the right thing. Voldemort's sick, and to force 11-year olds to fight with bare hands is sadistic. No one wants to watch that." He assured, "I've already made most of my friend rounds. I feel like I was left out of this party," He attempted a feeble joke.

"For the better, though. You're free of the choosing." Something lifted from his face, like he hadn't yet realized it, and he broke into a smile.

"I'm going to help all of you. I'm a pureblood, and my grandma will support my friends. You won't have to worry when you need something, I'll be there for you."

Hermione laughed. "I'm sure you will. But…can you watch over someone here too? Well, two people." She paused.

"Of course. I just told you I'll do whatever I can." He punched her lightly.

"Keep Ginny sane. She's loosing almost all her friends too. And, maybe a brother."

Neville sighed. "I figured as much. She looked ready to collapse out there after you all were pushed from the stage. She's not taking it well."

"I wouldn't' either." Hermione scoffed, "Also…look over Artemis. I just…don't let my volunteer go to waste." She said. There was unspoken words to it, and Neville understood.

"She will be safe." He clasp her hand, like it was the start of an unbreakable Vow. Hermione knew him to be good on his word, so perhaps, in a way, it was.

"Summer will be hell without any of you." Neville sighed, "You know that, right?"

"My summer will be just as bad. Who knows how long it will last. Last year lasted almost three weeks, right?" Neville mulled, finally nodding in agreement.

"The first one lasted the longest. I doubt you'll all beat the two-and a half months. Everyone there was mostly killed off by the game makers, not each other." He agreed.

"Until Cho went crazy and killed everyone." Neville's face darkened.

"They say it changes people." He said solemnly.

"No. Not me. It won't change me. I'm…I stronger than that." She said firmly, repeating what Ginny had whispered not only a couple moments ago.

"If anyone can stay sane, it's you."

"I wish I knew what you did, Neville." Hermione sighed, "Plants could save me in there. I've been reading, I mean, but I never thought I'd be picked."

"C'mon Hermione." Neville nudged her, "If you've been reading you're ready. More than anyone else out there. I heart Blaise is fancy with some weapons, but put a berry in front of him, and he won't tell if it's poison or not."

The door opened, and Hermione felt it was much too soon to let him go. Neville had always been so faithful, so brave. His face fell, and he hugged her. He'd grown and now, she dug her face into his chest and he rests his chin on her busy hair. She didn't want to leave him.

"I will help you win. I promise." He said. Hermione gave a half-smile.

"I'm sure you said that to everyone else. Only one can win." She sniffled, and Neville put his hands up in a 'you caught me' sort of way. Yet, he still smiled.

"I did make a promise, didn't I? But shhh-don't tell the others."

Hermione knew her time was running thin, and couldn't image who else would be in to see her. She accepted this, and sat back down, and her head began to swirl. With knowledge. With fears, dreams, and hopes. She wondered what Ron was doing in the next room over, who was saying good-bye to him. She wondered when she'd have to say good-bye.

The door creaked open, and Hermione startled.

Artemis entered with her sisters. Artemis went right for another hug, but her sisters hung back. Hermione glared at them.

"We wanted to thank you, for saving her." Scarlett began. Hermione bit her tongue so not to say anything that would hurt Artemis, but the words slipped out anyway.

"Clearly, because neither of you were going to." She bit out.

The sisters gave hesitant looks at each other. "Artemis is stronger than you think-," Blair tried to argue softly.

"An 11-year-old is more likely to win than a seventh year, then?" Hermione questioned swiftly, crouching down next to Artemis, rubbing the girl's back.

"If you had just waited, maybe I would have offered!" Scarlett snapped.

"So it's my fault?" Hermione's voice was even, and she glared harder.

"Look." Blair stepped in, "What happened…happened. C'est la vie, right? It's undone. We just wanted to thank so, so I guess that's it." She began leaving to avoid the confrontation that was swimming in Hermione's eyes, "C'mon Arty."

"I'll be right there. Can I get a moment alone?" She asked. Scarlett and Blair exchanged looks.

"Fine." Scarlett said and the two left in a haste. Hermione was at eye-level with the girl.

"Thank you. Thank you, so much." Artemis repeated for the umpteenth time.

"I couldn't let you go out there." Hermione said with a soft sigh. She tugged on a little braid in Artemis' hair.

"My sisters wouldn't have volunteered. I know that. They're not…good. They may be in Gryffindor, but I think they belong in Slytherin." Artemis said sourly.

"No, that's a fate I wouldn't wish on anyone." Hermione chuckled.

"My uncle, he's a pureblood in London. He watches the games. He can help. After this, he will because I'm his favorite." Artemis said in one big rush, and caught Hermione's confused gaze, "My dad is a squib. He's counted as a muggle, and met my mum. That's why technically, I'm a muggle-born. But the magic was there. Always."

She traced Hermione's hand, "The magic is there." She repeated, words that sounded sage for her age, and Hermione bit back a question, but settled for a nod.

"You have to win." Artemis said, "After this, you can't die."

"I don't want to."

"No one wants to die. I'm not safe, I know. Next year, I might be picked. But next year, or the year after, or the year after, I'll be ready. I'm going to train and learn everything I can so that when I'm picked, I will be ready like you are." She put so much faith in her voice, "Otherwise you wouldn't have volunteered." Hermione didn't want to tell her otherwise.

The door opened, and Artemis was gone. Hermione was sure now there would be no one, because a guard came in, motioning for her to follow. She was met with a stream of the other students, who all were a bit more nervous looking. Ron and Seamus walked in deep conversation, and when he glanced up, his eyes flickered with a fire she'd never seen before.

They were planning something.

She fell into step with Ernie, who greeted her with a small smile and a half-brightened look.

The train waited for them, and steam was puffing from the sprout already. It was just like going home after the year's end, because it was the right time, but it wasn't. It wouldn't be taking them to 9 and ¾, it would be taking them into the mouth of hell.


	3. Chapter Three

"A box for each house and gender." Umbridge said, gleefully, "Gryffindor boys, the first one, please." She ushered the three away. Hermione craned her neck to see Ron and Seamus vanish, and neither gave her a single look.

Lavender and Fay hesitated with Hermione when they stepped into their boxcars.

"Well, if you excuse me." Lavender said promptly, wringing her hair still, and backtracked into a compartment. Fay looked at Hermione, almost pleading, but Hermione backed up into an empty seat section as well. It looked nice and clean, and there seemed to be all new lining on the trains. She hadn't been on them since she was young.

She sat, and was almost knocked off her feet when the train jolted forward with no forewarning. She sat there, immobilized for a moment, before she breathed deeply.

"It's all strategy." She whispered to herself.

To win the games, it was about 10% skill, 1% savagery, and 89% of having a plan. There was some parchment in her robes, which she always kept on her for moments of 'aha', with a muggle pen, much easier than carrying around a quill and ink pack.

She made two columns: People I Should Worry About, People I Don't Have to Worry About.

She began to go through the list mentally.

Ernie was one to worry about. He had brute strength and was good at nature-type things, like survival, which Hermione had never been too keen on learning in the first place.

Corner was one to not worry about. He was only good when he had a wand in his hand, which he clearly would not.

When she came to Justin, she realized she had to make another list- People I'm Not Sure About. Justin had grown up with Muggles, like Hermione, so he knew how to live outside of magic. That didn't mean he was skilled in combat or survival techniques, though. She'd have to watch him before the games.

She added Caligula to the unknown list too. He was just to young for her to have interacted with thus so far.

Wayne was placed with Corner. He was the epitome of Hufflepuff, and dimwitted, naive, and scrawny to the core. He couldn't last long.

Duke, from reputation, knew how to use a bow and arrow. He also hunted game with his family, as she'd overheard him talking about to Susan Bones. This could make him a worthy combatant.

All three of the Gryffindor boys made the 'worry about' list. Ron was a quidditch player, and had done his time with a beater's bat when he had to fill in once. He also was a good strategist from his years of chess, and he would be scrutinizing most everyone.

Seamus was an enigma that she knew could be deadly. Like Ernie, he grew up in a farm like setting, so his muscles were lean from years of hoisting heavy materials over his shoulders.

Collin, although young, held animosity that had darkened him after the death of his parents. The death, they all knew but no one said, hadn't been accidental.

Draco was put on the unknown list. She knew that some pureblooded parents taught their children combat skills other than magic, but to what extend, she didn't know. And Draco didn't seem like the type, she mused, to dirty his silken robes. That made her chuckle; how would the king fare without soft bed sheets and clean water?

Blaise was for sure on the dangerous list. His hands looked as though it could crush a skull the density of a rock. He had just a hard look about him, too, the way his lips sneered.

Pike, who was much like Wayne except a little more unknown, was put on the 'not worry' list. Even though he was a Slytherin, Hermione could see little redeeming.

The girls were more difficult.

Hannah was a nimble girl with feet that danced across the floor. Her hair was always in braids, and her hands were not such of a murderer. Yet, there was something pointed in her look, and there had been such a look of acceptance when she'd been picked, veiling fury, that Hermione had to wonder about what went on underneath the skull cap. She may be a force to recon with.

Susan was inconsolable. Her aunt had already attempted to get her off the list, no doubt, and Susan expected that she would. She could only imagine how the girls' hands would shake if given a weapon. She wasn't a concern.

Leanne was an unknown. Hermione only had ever seen her with girls older than herself, and therefore their circles never much mixed.

Luna was another unknown. She knew her friend was formidable, yet once again only with a wand. She prayed desperately that this ranking wasn't just because she was her friend, but she was really quite worried. Luna had some…interesting ideas about the natural world. Would her insistence on imaginary things cost her a life?

Mandy was ever curvy, in the way mothers are, and ever sarcastic. She was plagued with not only an unfortunate last name but also an unfortunate distaste for anything physical. Hermione knew she would be gone soon.

Elizabeth was so young, and Hermione sighed. The girl looked like a porcelain doll. She wished there was a better way, but hell, there wasn't. And it wasn't for her to protect her, when her own life was ever so cautiously balancing on the line. Hadn't her sacrifice for Artemis been enough? Hermione fingers betrayed her feelings when she placed Elizabeth on the 'unknown' column, as if that made her thoughts any better.

Lavender could have been trained. Her family was one of those old Purebloods, so she couldn't have been surprised. Yet the girl seemed to only previously care about fashion and nail polish. She didn't seen like the type to pick up a knife and plunge it into flesh, and seemed traumatized as it was. She wasn't going to worry about her former dorm-mate. She felt no loyalty to her whatsoever.

Fay was too newly transferee from Beaubaxtons. Even when she had attended Hogwarts, Hermione didn't care to know her. Unknown.

There was something calculating about Daphne. She was venomous, that was for sure. She even reminded Hermione of a snake, but with a little bit of veela and a little bit of Paris. She suspected there was already a little dagger in those long boots of hers.

With no hesitation, she wrote Pansy down in all caps. This girl may be her greatest enemy. Something had snapped in that girl's mind, she decided. There was a blazed look of a killer.

She was still caught up in the ghastly idea of Pansy Parkinson, so Tracey seemed even smaller in comparison and was just as easily placed in the not to worries. The girl just never seemed to be anything extraordinary. In more civil times, perhaps Tracey would have graduated near the bottom, but still in the middle. She would have gotten a desk job, found a nice enough husband that probably had a mistress on the side, and been a stay at home mother when the time came with a kid or two. But hey, times change.

She was aghast. The worry list was much longer than any others. She wondered if, every contestant made a list, she'd be on their worry lists. She hoped so. She wasn't going down easily.

She stared hard, biting her lip. She decided to circle those she would make an alliance with. Only from the 'Worry about' list, of course. Why bet on a kid you know you don't have to worry about getting killed by, because they aren't skilled enough? The best would be needed to get to the top.

Of course, if it came down to only two, it would be harder to win. Yet, she wanted only the best for her teammates.

Ernie was nice enough. She circled him.

Ron, well, she hoped. Even though he was one of her best friends, she was doubtful. She knew how he worshiped his brother Fred, who had won.

"Don't make a team. Go by yourself. That's how I won. If you rely on others, then you let your guard down." He'd said one night to the both of them, in talks of the games. Ron had nodded, but she never guessed he'd have to use it. Would he recall his brother's advice? Hermione didn't agree, but if Ron remembered, she doubted she'd have a chance to convince him otherwise. Still, he'd be good to have around.

She decided to circle Seamus too. Mostly because the way that he and Ron had been talking before, like planning. If they had a plan together, Hermione wanted in, and she wasn't going to boot him out.

She had liked Hannah before all of this, and she was also a girl, so she circled her as her final ally choice. She really hoped her instincts about worrying about her would be correct, especially if she agreed to Hermione's offer.

She set away the parchment, nervous. She decided to try for a nap. She'd been worrying about the choosing, so the night previous hadn't been the best of sleeps. And honesty, she wasn't sure when she was going to sleep so casually again.

The train moved like a mother rocking a child, and with her robes pulled about her as a blanket amidst the worry and sleep came within moments.

She woke to several raps on the door. She wondered first if it was Ron or Luna, to talk. She hoped so. She would much enjoy some chatter with Luna, and if it were Ron, she really wanted to discuss the list that lay on the floor.

Then she wondered if they were even allowed to move about the cars, so her curiosity sprung her to her feet. But it was neither at the door.

"Anything from the trolley, dear?"

The sweet old lady, who had served food at the trolley since she would remember, stood before Hermione with a matronly smile and a tray full of food. She looked at the Honeydukes candy, the sandwiches, and the news, and her fingers fished for change.

"No." She sighed, and the woman frowned.

"No?"

"I didn't expect to buy anything." Hermione admitted. The woman gave a laugh.

"Dear, everything is free." She said. Hermione's brow knit.

"F..Free?"

"Yes. Your friend, the red-headed one, nearly took my whole cart when I told him." There was kindness in her voice. She imagined Ron, and smiled.

"Yes, he would."

"So anything?"

Hermione decided to indulge in a moment of childhood, and while she took a healthy sandwich, the majority of her spoils were candy and soda pop. She hesitated at the door, though.

"Why is it free?" She whispered, afraid.

"Well, it's because…you…" The woman floundered for words, and Hermione reckoned she was the first to question. The woman didn't have to finish. Hermione knew the words she didn't say.

It's because she was being sent off to die.

"I understand." Hermione bowed her head, "And I'm grateful for this."

"I wouldn't let them discourage me from pushing the cart if they ordered me too." She said, "It's the least I can do."

Hermione let her door close, and pondered the event as she unwrapped a cauldron cake.

She wondered if anyone else would be so generous at his or her demise. Perhaps.

She needed to go to the bathroom, and slid the door open a little later. Lavender was already in the hall, fighting with Wayne Hopkins. Hermione wasn't interested in their problems, and she rolled her eyes. Clearly, Ron could have visited her, but hadn't. Git.

She felt like it was her first time on a train, the way her legs jiggled as she tried to trudge to the restrooms. She passed a slightly ajar door and saw Ron inside. He and Seamus were once again in deep conversation, along with Luna. She felt a little hurt she hadn't been invited to this party. Seamus snapped up, as if he recognized her footsteps, and got up.

"its just Hermione!" Luna said in protest, but the door was closed in her face. Hermione bit back disappointment and the urge to throw the door open, and went to the bathroom.

So much for friends. Fine; if she had to go alone in this, she would. Or, maybe she should go and find Ernie and Hannah?

She didn't though. She sat in the loo, and put her fingers deep into her unruly hair. Everyone was truly alone in these games, no matter how much she liked to believe otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DD is durmstrang, B is Beaubaxtons.
> 
> BOYS
> 
> Hufflepuff-
> 
> Pureblood Ernie McMillian
> 
> Halfblood Wayne Hopkins
> 
> Muggleborn Justin FF
> 
> Ravenclaw
> 
> Pureblood Caligula Darcy (D)
> 
> Halfblood Michael Corner
> 
> Muggleborn Duke Oakley (D)
> 
> Gryffindor
> 
> Pureblood Ron Weasley
> 
> Halfblood Seamus Finnigan
> 
> Muggleborn Colin Creevy
> 
> Slytherin
> 
> Pureblood Draco Malfoy
> 
> Halfblood Blaise Zabini
> 
> Muggleborn Pike Webber (D)
> 
> Girls
> 
> Hufflepuff-
> 
> Pureblood Hannah Abbott
> 
> Halfblood Susan Bones
> 
> Muggleborn Leanne Hadley
> 
> Ravenclaw
> 
> Pureblood Luna Lovegood
> 
> Halfblood Mandy Brocklehurst
> 
> Muggleborn Elizabeth Archibald
> 
> Gryffindor
> 
> Pureblood Lavender Brown
> 
> Halfblood Fay Dunbar (BB)
> 
> Muggleborn Hermione Granger
> 
> Slytherin
> 
> Pureblood Daphne Greengrass
> 
> Halfblood Pansy Parkinson
> 
> Muggleborn Tracey Davis (BB)
> 
> Victor year One: Oliver Wood
> 
> Victor Year Two: Fred Weasley
> 
> Victor Year Three: Victor Krum
> 
> Year Four: Cedric Diggory and Marcus Flint


	4. Chapter Four

Hermione tried to reconcile what she'd been seeing. How she'd been shut out from the very secretive conversation of those she thought to be her closest friends. If Harry-

She suppressed a sigh. Harry had always been the most secretive of any of them. And besides, it was foolish to imagine what he'd be like now, when there were so many years in between his death and now. For all she knew, he could have been a totally different person.

These games were, in a sick way, in his honor. But what had he been thinking, joining that rebellion with such vigor? She had woken and found him gone after he'd promised he wouldn't go. She told Dumbledore right away, but oh, it was too late. She'd known it in her bones, from the way that they just seemed to fall out of place and she was collapsing on the floor of the common room.

It was 3am and no one comforted her then; not until the morning when she was still there, and Dumbledore came back with the gravest look on his face. She had known, she had known. She knew that he would be caught, but she had simply then wished for a simple death. Her wish left hanging in the air.

She hadn't watched when the told her to. She looked when the Death Eaters turned her way, but at all other times she averted her eyes to the floor praying to every god she had ever heard of. If no one participated, they couldn't do much than pick them off but what looked like forces of nature, could they? But if the did that too much, they'd loose public opinion. Hermione was sure it wasn't just 'something' that snapped in Cho's mind. She was near positive that it was the doings of spell casters, and she was the closest and easiest to hit. She would be known now, though, as such horrid nicknames like 'Cho the Bloody' or 'Chilling Cho' for the bloodshed. She would become a phantom that haunted children's beds. She would be described as having long black hair that moved without wind, her hands dripping eternally with blood, her lips rouged from organs of humans, and a big hole from a spear where her heart should have been. That's how she went; a Hufflepuff threw a spear through her back, but it was an impeccable shot.

If they had known the Cho Hermione knew at school, those bedtimes scares would seen like the worst insult one could lay. Cho was ever smart, ever beautiful, and ever kind. It wasn't right that she was the result of trauma, lack of sleep, and some sort of stunner to the brain. If there wasn't any action, would that be her, Hermione pondered?

Of course there would be. There had been little problem with moving fourth the remainder of the games. Once they realized that if they didn't fight for their lives, it would be their lives. Secretly, everyone just wanted to live. They didn't want the fame or the money that came after, or the life of security from evils, they just wanted to see the next bloody sunrise. Friends turned to killers, and those she had thought to be upright people did what they did to survive. She always tried to avoid watching.

She opened the loo door, and stepped outside. People were beginning to mingle about the cabins, but, not surprisingly, there were not Slytherins to be found. It was better that way. Justin was the first person she saw, and she tapped his shoulder.

"How long until we arrive?" She asked. Justin turned with a jump, eyeing her warily. There was a change happening already; like he believed her to pull out a knife and kill him there.

"Two or so hours." He said, never blinking. She rolled her eyes.

"Thanks Justin," She said with a hard edge, if as to remind him the games hadn't started yet. Besides, she had no intention to kill him. She had no intention to kill anyone. So far, no female had won the games, but there was a general lack of them as it was. She reckoned if she lay low and waited for everyone to kill themselves while Hermione sat safe under the ground or in a tree, she should have enough sanity to just kill one or two when the time came. If she killed anymore, she wouldn't leave as Hermione.

"Everyone! Dinner in the farthest hall. Please report at once!" Umbridge's voice sang through the train, and she heard moans.

"What happens if we don't go?" Lavender asked angrily, stepping out of her compartment. No one answered, but Hermione thought she knew the reply, if one had.

"It's just food. There wouldn't be a game if they poisoned us all before it even started." Hermione reasoned. Ron had slammed the door open.

"You so sure? What if I'm not hungry?" He said with a sniffle.

"Ronald Weasley, not hungry. Yeah, that will be the day." Ernie scoffed, and Ron began to blush. His stomach betrayed his façade.

The overhead boomed again, "Your presence is firmly required." It was as if she could hear them, and Ron sighed, and the conversation was finished about if he had to go or not. Luna was beckoned from the area, and Seamus followed soon behind. Hermione darted back into her room, because she didn't want to be stuck near her 'friends', but realized she really had no reason to go back to her compartment, so waddled around like a fool with hopes no one saw.

She realized too late that she had not thought it through; she was the last one into the food area. Everyone was already sitting, or in the process, meaning there were no seats left sans one. It could have been worse, she reckoned. She could have been by Pansy, but Pansy cornered herself at the edge of the table with her only companion to be Blaise. No; Hermione found herself in between Seamus Finnigan and Daphne Greengrass.

The meal was delicious, even without a taste. Hermione's mouth watered at the delicate chocolate things, the steaming potatoes, and the savory looking meats. But no one touched the food yet; everyone was eyeing it and each other with looks of uncertainty.

"Well, it's not like it's bloody poisoned!" Seamus announced, and was the first to reach forward for the chicken legs, "Want some, Hermione?"

Oh, now he was speaking to her? She maintained ice in her voice as she replied. "Yes." There was a look of surprise, probably faux, across his face at her tone, but she saw him bit his lip to keep from responding all the same.

He was the catalyst, and next Justin was grappling for the potatoes, Ron for the steak, and even Draco looked ravenous as he pushed up his suit to take some bread rolls and butter.

"This is the feast, isn't it?" Luna asked from the farthest possible seat from Pansy, which Hermione much envied. Even though there were four people in between her and the devilish girl, the Slytherin's sneers and looks were enough to make Hermione wish she had her wand. She knew a few hexes from Ginny that would make Pansy think twice before laughing at everything that was said.

"So do they really expect us to all sit here nicely without murdering someone?" Pike asked, a hard edge to his voice. He had hardly touched his food.

"Nonsense. This is just to make us feel special before the games. They aren't expecting fighting yet. Not where they can't enhance it and show it to everyone." There was a sneer beneath his haughty reply, which was right, as Fred had no doubt described the whole affair to his brother long before now.

"Voldemort wouldn't want us fighting, not yet." Draco agreed, his usual voice lost. It sounded small. He shook his head, looking up, and catching Hermione's eye before he moved on, "Just enjoy it now. Merlin knows when we'll have such luxuries again."

"Must be hard for you, though." Wayne was shivering even as he dared say anything against Draco, but this had made everyone on the same level, "I mean, this is what a Malfoy must eat like everyday."

Draco didn't answer, although Hermione noted his jaw twitched with an unsaid reply. He proceeded to shove his food around a little, before he sighed, "Being a pureblood isn't the lap of luxury you think it is."

Before anyone could ask, Umbridge opened the sliding door and waltzed in, in whole new pink attire, and clapped her hands. "Well isn't this just lovely and so generous! I hope you're all finding this food to be so very much to your liking. You all deserve it." The glint in her eyes went unmissed by no one. There was no silence at her words, a firm resolve that no one speak to the dragon lady in kitten heels.

Well, except for Pansy.

"So, we get to the place tonight, right. The games begin tonight, right?" There was an anxious ring to her words, and one hand gripped the table and the other a harmless butter knife that now looked very deadly. The unmistakable excitement for a kill sat suspended over their heads. Umbridge looked horrified.

"Merlin no! Do you think we'd send you out like this? Underdressed, underfed, and untrained?"

Well, that's what they'd done with Harry, of course. Silly Hermione, she reminded with acerbic, that had been punishment. This was just a game.

"No, no! That's actually why I had you all meet here. I need to discuss the next few days for all of you, so there's no confusion." She shot Pansy a dark look.

"We'll be arriving to the area where you'll be living in about two hours. There you will each get a room, and go straight to bed. In the morning, the stylists will meet with you to make you the best you for all the appearances. Then, you will begin training hard for five days. At the end of those five days, there will be a live interview with Rita Skeeter. The next day, you'll be in the area!" She said it all with a flourish, in the way one talked excitedly about the tour of America they would be attending or the trip to the beach. It was most certainly neither.

Umbridge just held her happy smile for a little, but when no one spoke, a look like spilled milk crossed her face. "Well, enjoy." She said curtly, clearly irritated at the lack of enthusiasm.

"I have an idea," Pike grumbled, "Let's put her and all the others who love the games in it. Then they could really love it." He hissed.

"She wouldn't last a day. None would." Draco scoffed in reply.

"Exactly." Susan spoke up in agreement, "What ever happened to the children are the future campaign? There won't be children left!" She cried.

"This is ridiculous." Hermione got up abruptly, breathing hard under her breath. She wasn't in the mood to stick around, and her appetite was non existent.

"Are you leaving? Are you allowed to?" Duke asked with open jaws.

"I doubt it." Draco replied.

"No one asked you, Malfoy." Hermione retorted with anger.

"Technically, his question second question could have been directed at anyone." Draco's reply was smooth like silk, which made her blood broil.

"Sit down, lass. Enjoy the food while it's here." Seamus wound his fingers in hers in a friendly way, encouraging her to sit back down. Hermione glared at him.

"Now I'm your friend?" She asked, jerking her hand away from his, her words only for him to hear.

"What?" He asked, and Hermione felt everyone looking at her.

"If you leave, we may get in trouble." Hannah said, and there was a warning her in eyes, for Hermione's sake. Hermione bit her lip.

"Fine. I'll stay." She sat down again. Seamus still looked confused, and Hermione saw him trying to process her words. Let him wonder, then. If he didn't know, then he should be confused.

The remainder of the dinner, there was light and tense talk amongst the children, and Hermione would have liked to say the food was good, had she eaten more than a couple bites. She firmly refused to talk to Seamus, who was looking at her with a hurt sort of look on his face.

Finally, everyone began to leave when the meal was over, and the doors were opened. Hermione realized they must have been locked, so even if she had tried to leave, she would have been embarrassed. Hannah must have known, somehow. That girl was perceptive. Hermione was beginning to want to ally with her more and more.

It was not long before they reached their hotel rooms. They were shoved off the train and herded through a passage of underground ways that must have been extensions of the Ministry, until they came to a wide-open indoor hotel front.

"This is where you will be doing everything for the next week. Training is in the lowest floor, and we have a section just for all of you, so you don't disturb other guests and journalists aren't clawing for interviews and such. The rules are strict about going outside of our boundaries."

"There are many splendid rooms for all of you to be put into, and to be fair, you will pick from this bag." She was pulling a satchel from her over-sized purse, and Hermione wondered if she'd ever used an undetectable extension charm. No, Umbridge wasn't smart enough for that.

Umbridge just sort of buzzed around, shoving the bag of jingling keys in people's faces, seemingly arbitrary. Hermione was, though, the second to last one to pick, so maybe it wasn't quite so random. She pulled the key from the bag, as there was only two she deliberated for more than usual on which to pull, and saw a number 12 on the handle.

"Everyone will have a partner with the same number, you two will be sharing a room. Don't fret, there are different bedrooms, but the rest of the space is shared." She said, to lull confusion that Hermione heard about her when people began sharing keys.

"What?" Came the shriek of a girl that could only be Pansy, "I am NOT sleeping in the same vicinity as a Hufflepuff!" She glared daggers at Susan Bones, who seemed to shrink under the gaze. When she turned angrily around, the look that Susan reciprocated seemed to convey the shared sediments.

"Well, unless you can find a willing person to trade, that is out of my hands. But be warned, Parkinson, if there are any pre-mature deaths- 'accidents' or not before the games begin, the consequences may be…severe." The direct threat made Pansy snap her teeth in frustration. As it turned out; no one wanted to sleep in the same housing situation with the dragon girl.

Hermione could think of only a handful of people she would not mind sharing with; Hannah and Ernie for their obvious ally connections, and a couple others that she could altogether ignore successfully that wouldn't be much of a bother.

It seemed within a few short moments, everyone had gathered in their pairs. Hermione turned in a circle to find a lone teenager, who hadn't yet been paired. She spun right into Seamus.

"Number 12?" He asked, clinking his eyes in his own fingers.

Bugger. Umbridge sized upon them, at the sound of the number.

"Oh!" Her face held fake enthusiasm, "You two are lucky, and you got the suite!" Other people looked up, some with jealousy, others with mirth.

"Oh, lucky us." Hermione grumbled. Maybe there was enough room to put her far away from Seamus in the suite.

"Follow me now, I'm sure you all know your partners and will be respectable and civil to one another, correct?" There some half-hearted agrees, and one very annoyed huff from Pansy.

Umbridge shoved all 24 students onto one larger than normal elevator that was obnoxiously packed all the same. Pairs got off at each number, and Hermione felt time dragging on to reach the 12th floor. Soon, it was just the three of them left- Seamus, Umbridge, and Hermione. She could not imagine a more awkward situation. Well, if it had been Ron instead of Seamus that may have been worse. Hermione might be a screaming match with him at this point. He, luckily, got off at the second floor so Hermione didn't accidently set him on fire with her glare of death.

The ding of the elevator pulled Hermione from her thoughts, and she and Seamus were unceremoniously pushed into the suite. "Wake up is sharply at 10 am tomorrow, with a light breakfast down on floor one. This is where I leave all of you until before the games. New supervisors are already here, and will know if anything naughty happens." Umbridge didn't sound all that disappointed to be rid. Hermione wondered what constituted as 'naughty'. They had never been given a defined list. Did they mean naughty as attempting to sneak away, killing an opponent, or something sexual? She looked at Seamus, and wanted to barf at the latter.

The suite was massive and beautiful. It looked like something futuristic magazine or book. It was sleek and modern, with windows on all sides looking out over London. They must be higher up than she had originally thought, because the view was stunning.

She turned sharply, and saw their bags magically appear in their rooms. She had been worrying about what she'd wear to bed. She was tired, and even though even now she could see a kitchen and a hot tub, she was too exhausted to explore anymore. She picked up her suitcase.

"Well, goodnight Seamus." Her words were clipped.

"Wait! Hermione, somethin' is still buggin' me. 'Bout what ye said on the train."

"If you still haven't figured it out, then I don't know if you deserve to be told!" Hermione sniffed, a new wave of disappointment washing over her.

"Wha-,"

"The damn secret meetings on the train. You slammed a door in my face. Am I not good enough to be your ally? Do you think I'm weak? Worse off than crazy Luna Lovegood?" She spat, and spun sharply on her heels.

"No! Hermione, it's not like that." He tried to argue, but Hermione was in a bad mood.

"Goodnight Seamus. I'll see you in the morning." With that she promptly slammed the door on him, and after changing, fell into bed. Her sleep was dreamless.


	5. Chapter Five

Hermione woke to an alarm that was run through the walls seemingly at the time of 9 AM. Grudgingly, she searched blindly through her suitcase for a robe and threw it on. The lights in the suite were already brightly lit, and the smell of breakfast wafted through the area.

"Mornin'." Seamus greeted, as if the harsh words last night had never happened, as he stirred eggs in a pan.

"You cook?" She asked numbly.

"Aye." He said, turning to tend to a couple sausages, "Me mum taught me how. Being the youngest, I was always put on kitchen duty." He said.

"Oh. Aren't we eating with the others?" She asked, "Or do we have to eat separately."

"No. Other places don't have kitchens. I'd be a shame not to use such a beautiful set, though." He said, "We have the option of eating meals in here. I can't image the food down there is better."

"Probably true." Hermione agreed, and her stomach growled. She took two plates after a bit of searching.

"Do ya want toast?" Seamus asked, "Orange juice?"

"Anything you have." She said with a long sigh, "I may as well fatten myself up now."

Seamus grinned widely at her statement and chuckled, "I hope you're ravenous."

Eggs, toast, sausages, and a little bowl of oatmeal complete with a high glass of orange juice was sitting in front of her not a moment later. Seamus dished his own, twice the giant serving of what she'd already been given, and was careful to sit across from her.

"I thin' there were a misunderstandin' about the train." He said softly after a long time of placid and civil talk; mostly banter and wit, which Hermione was very much enjoying.

"I know what I saw." Hermione savagely stabbed a sausage.

"Fine lass. What did ye see?" Seamus asked irritably.

"A secret planning between you, Ron, and Luna. I told you this already. I get it. You don't want to be in alliance with me. I shouldn't have so much assumed."

"Hermione that's not what-," a loud blaring interrupted whatever he was about to say. He grimaced.

"Time to go?" Hermione asked weakly, looking at her state of undress.

"That be the ten minute warning." He said, and got up to scrape away the little that remained on his plate.

"I should get dressed." Hermione said, glad for an reason to leave. She was done waiting on excuses. Besides, she shouldn't be so hurt. Seamus didn't owe her anything.

She reappeared not long later in a pair of jeans and a simple tee-shirt, unprepared for what was to come. Seamus handed her a piece of paper.

"Was slipped underneath the door last night." He said. It was her schedule. Five days of hard work, it seemed. She wished she had run a bit more before being chosen, because she knew she was unfortunately out of shape.

She brightened when she saw a couple names on the list. "Alone practice with McGongall? And Fred's here too? And Cedric and Oliver?" She asked.

"'Course. Bring in teachers to teach us, bring in winners to watch it all again. They're what is called 'sponsors'." Seamus said with a wince, "Or 'Mentors'. Either way, they'll be helping one person stay alive. There's only five of them, so it is important to get their loyalty." He said, as if quoting a guidebook.

"Well, I seem to be alone with Fred three times- the only one who I seem to be alone with. But he's going to help Ron, won't he?" Hermione asked. Seamus shrugged in response.

"Wait, I'm alone with McGonagall…five times." She said, jabbing the first session. Seamus peered over her shoulder.

"Ah, I seem to be with her three." He said, and Hermione attempted to decipher a hint of jealousy or otherwise, but his voice seemed cheery.

"Snape? Glad I'm only with him once. I bet he's seeing Malfoy like eight times." Seamus continued, examining the list, and checking his list, "Shall we go?

Hermione nodded and they took the elevator to the sub level 1, and she was surprised to find basically everyone already there. She scowled at Ron, and purposely avoided him. She didn't need his excuses.

Hannah, though, she was trying to make an ally with. Then she mentally kicked herself. These were people, not pawns in a game. She shouldn't be so dehumanizing. She talked with Hannah because Hannah was her friend. Yes, that was why.

"How did you sleep?" She asked, and Hannah rolled her eyes.

"Oh, fine. I'm with Michael Corner. He's not totally horrible and arrogant, but he does snore. Those walls are paper thin!" She snickered, and both girls looked at the Ravenclaw and laughed together, "How's the suite?" She asked anxiously.

"The kitchens, Merlin." Hermione raved, "And the rooms are almost too good to believe." She described them, and saw envy bubbling in Hannah's eyes, but it was not unkind. It was a friendly envy, an appreciative envy.

"You can come up and hang out up there with me after today, if you'd like." Hermione added, "There's a hot tub."

"Hermione, clearly karma is good to you." Hannah said, shaking her head in disbelief, "And being a supportive friend I will keep you company in the lonely hot tub after today." She added.

The bell dinged, signaling the start of class and there was a loud bang from the doors. Madam Hooch whooshed in, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She knew this teacher- her name hadn't been on the sheet. She said a prayer of thanks and praise.

"Is everyone here?" The woman's hawk like eyes searched around the room, "Only twenty-three? Whose missing?" Her voice was chipped. There was a murmuring from the group.

"Wayne." Ernie said, his brow furring in confusion, "I was just eating with him. I don't know where he is-," He began, but the elevator doors came open and a flustered seventh-year stumbled through the doors.

"HOPKINS!" Her voice rang through the large area, banging in Hermione's ears.

"I didn't know where this was. I got a little lost and-," He began to say, wincing and laughing. Hooch stormed up and grabbed his collar.

"Do you find this funny? Do you think it's okay to be late? Will you be so careless in a week?" She yelled at him.

"Not funny, ma'am. Carless though? Being late? I don't see how-," He began to say with faux confidence, and Hannah took a sharp intake.

"Shut up, Hopkins." She hissed under her breath.

"Are you really so naïve?" She asked him, pulling him to the front.

"What?"

"Out there, a moment slip up, forgetting your way, could kill you. Stumble off a cliff when you take right instead of left. If you aren't smart enough to figure out how to read buttons on an elevator, then you should begin saying goodbye to your loved ones, Hopkins." She said, and pushed him into the group. At first, Hermione was outraged at her words, but she realized the frustration underneath the harshness. Hooch most likely trained each twenty-four or whatever the number. Mostly Hogwarts students. Every year, this teacher and others had to watch star students and good people die to a tyrannical leader. She was upset. She didn't want Hopkins to lose, but she couldn't sugarcoat it. It was her effort to show him his attitude. Hermione smiled inwardly.

Hooch coughed, and looked up. "Those clothes won't do. I am here to make you fit and to train you in some kinds of combat. I will see you twice a day. In the mornings will be strength training, afternoons after lunch will be skill building. For this, you need special outfits. Choose your size." She said, throwing a bag at the feet of the students, "And change quickly. There is no room for feeling insecure."

Hermione didn't want to take off her shorts and top in front of everyone, and she bit back irritation. Hannah was uneasily fingering the hemming of her shirt as well, and gave Hermione a helpless look. Some of the girls and boys were already half-way done dressing, and Hermione attempted not to look at their underclothes. It was an invasion of privacy.

"LET'S GO!" Hooch shouted, and Hermione grabbed her size and threw off her shorts unceremoniously in a rush of confidence. Hannah did too, and cried in anger. Her friend has chosen the one day to wear a lacy thong.

There was a catcall from Pike, and Hannah yanked on her clothes. She then marched up to him, and kicked him in the balls.

"Have a little respect!" She said, embarrassment and tears edging on the tip of her wavering voice.

Pike just moaned and rolled over in pain. Hooch was looking the other way.

Everyone was dressed by this time in lightweight fabric suits with a zipper up the back. They went down to her mid-thigh and just above her elbows. Hooch threw out a couple elastics for the girls, but Hermione already knew any attempt to control her hair was useless.

"Now give me three laps, twenty push-ups, one minuet plank, thirty jumping jacks, and lift any of these weights twenty times. In that order." There was little silence, and Hooch sighed.

"The best of each exercise round will be reworded, so today it will be the fastest. But don't think you can cheat. I could give you crap about how you're only cheating yourself and your chance of winning, but I know we have Slytherins here anyway." She glared at Draco who raised an eyebrow, "So this magical board will keep track of time and how many of each activity you do."

Susan gave a whimper.

"Well what are you waiting for, GO."

Hermione cussed Hooch, and asked the sky to take back her praise.

Admittedly, she was doing better than some of the girls and a boy or two. She was never athletic, so this was a real challenge for her, and her lungs killed. The idea of losing and receiving last place, though, pushed her on even though her sides felt like they were being ripped apart.

Susan just kind of stumbled like a zombie after the first lap, which was about the size of a American football field. Her father once watched such things; yelling at the TV as if the players across the sea could hear him. She had found that so utterly strange.

Elizabeth was done after the third lap. She sat down, her hair wet with sweat. Hooch yelled, but she firmly said she couldn't do anymore, to which Hooch pulled the young girl up and took her to the side.

Hannah was keeping up fairly well.

"Whatta a work out." She puffed, breathing heavily, "I'm sort of dead at this point." She said as she began her sit ups.

"I want to just lie down and stay there." Hermione agreed, but regretted her words. They showed weakness. Her only consolation was Miss Murder, Pansy, was agitated and breathing heavier than she was. Yet the girl was not giving up.

Hermione had known that only in an alternate universe would she win such a contest, so she was not surprised when Ernie came out first. Blaise was second. Draco was third.

"Well, that made me sweat a bit." Ernie said, and he was hardly affected. It was unfair, Hermione thought with a pout. Hooch still made everyone finish or drop out.

"That needs to improve." She said, her only words on the matter, but the displeasure evident in her tone, "How are you ever going to outrun a wild manticore on your tale, Susan?" She directed her question at the first to have given up.

"Manticores?" Susan was trembling.

"The game makers will throw every horror at you, and then some. You are without wands. You are powerless. Let's be honest- about seventy percent will die from starvation, drowning, natural disasters, poison, and ect. Twenty percent from what the game makers toss into the ring, to stir the pot. Only ten from actual kills from others. This is not a game of murdering each other first, this is a game of surviving in the woods."

"What if we want it to be a game of killing others?" Pansy asked with distaste.

"You are a sick girl, Parkinson."

Ernie's prize was a long break while everyone else did some strength exercises until Hermione felt like her whole body was made of jelly. She could hardly put one foot in front of the other when she went to pick up her clothes and go to the elevators. Her next lesson was with McGonagall. Hopefully she would be okay with having Hermione never sit up. For at least a day.

Hannah was going to meet alone with a past victor, Cedric Diggory.

"We were friends way back." She said, blushing a bit.

"Friends?" Hermione echoed, raising an eyebrow as they got into the elevator.

"Well, friends is a lose term." She admitted after a long moment of Hermione's stare, and her face fell, "Now he'll have to watch me die."

"Hannah, don't be so…"Hermione struggled for the words, "You might not." She offered up. Hannah gave a morbid smile and a shrug.

"I might so." She replied and stepped off on the sub level 3. Hermione was on the absolute lowest floor, sub level 12. The first thing that she noticed when she stepped off was the overpowering smell of aged water, like she was in a cave.

It was brightly lit, though, and a little drafty. McGonagall was waiting.

"Hermione dear, I…" She came forward and hugged her former student, and Hermione hissed in sharply.

"I'm a little sore from Hooch." McGongall's eyes twinkled for a moment.

"Yes, she can be quite…pressing." She agreed.

"Is there somewhere I can sit?" Hermione asked.

"Of course. Water? Food?" McGonagall asked, and Hermione nodded vigorously.

"Please." She said, her voice cracking, "So…each teacher will show us some skill. But I'm alone with you. What are you teaching?" Hermione asked, and McGonagall sighed.

"You are astute. " McGonagall sighed, "I teach…well, Hermione what do you know of Magic theory?" She asked.

"Not much. Those books were hidden at Hogwarts."

"I do realize. Do you know where your magic comes from?" She asked.

"From inside of us. It is something we are born with. I don't think anyone knows why or how, though. Our wands are a way to translate the magic to be corporeal."

"Exactly!" There was a look of triumph on her face, and Hermione sat back, relaxing, "The wand is not what holds the magic, it is an extension of the body. But Hermione, I have studied magic theory in my many years, and I have mastered wandless magic."

"I haven't been successful." Hermione admitted her faults, cringing in pain at those words.

"You have not been told the right things, then." McGonagall pressed her lips, "This is…something to change the game, Hermione. It is…powerful. Once you know, wands will be near useless." She said, "What hand is your wand hand?" She asked.

"My right hand." Hermione replied quickly.

"Then your most magic hand is your left. You see, your right requires the most…assistance. I assume you have practiced wandless with your right hand?"

"Well, of course." Hermione frowned, "Wouldn't the magic conductor- the wand- be best in the hand that feels natural?"

"No. When you cast magic, your body balances itself. Your left hand contributes, although unknowingly, so the wand in the opposite hand creates a force just as powerful to balance the body. Your internal workings would start to break down from the imbalance if the wand had not been made. Wandless magic, therefore, is quite dangerous. Yet, you could kill with it."

Hermione mulled over her words. "How many students are you teaching?"

"Three from each house. The most likely to be able to achieve such strides. Not everyone will. Only a few will even make a feather flutter, but I have faith in you of all. This is why I meet with you the most."

Hermione felt honored in a sort of way. "Who else, if you don't mind me asking?" She said.

"Seamus and Collin from your house."

"Not Ron?" Hermione said in surprise.

"I quite vividly remember second year, when he sent every spell back at himself even with a wand in hand." She said dryly, and Hermione chuckled.

"Right. Not Ron."

"Hannah, Leanne, and Ernie from Hufflepuff. Luna, Elizabeth, and Caligula from Ravenclaw. Draco, Blaise, and Tracey from Slytherin." She said. Hermione gave a grunt of surprise.

"Not Pansy either?" She asked, "You don't think she could-,"

"Oh I have no doubt she could, Hermione." McGonagall's voice was gave, "But I cannot watch her with this secret. It is not for her hands to hold. It is not the secret for a killer. I had to forge the reasons to provide sufficient evidence she was not suitable to be a chosen candidate."

"Oh."

"She may have already been taught it." McGonagall added.

"That's…not comforting." Hermione frowned, "What are you teaching to the groups, then? The remainder?"

"Oh, a short lesson on animagnus. That could be mighty useful in a time of dire need, but I am not sure most would ever be able to achieve that either. I figure if you are ahead of your lessons, and master this within the first three days, I can attempt to teach you that as well." She took a breath, "Anything to help you win, Hermione."

Hermione brushed off the comment. It wasn't that she was not grateful, it was that she was uncomfortable. They shouldn't have been so invested in her; where were they when Harry needed their help? Was this a 'sorry your best friend died' type of payback, as if saving her life could right the first wrong? And what about Ron? Sure, he wasn't the most apt wizard on the planet, but he didn't deserve to die tragically. But then he'd see Harry. That, she reminded herself, made a death here almost worth it.

"How do I begin?"

"Stand up; sitting will only hinder you. Keep your right hand behind your back, so you aren't temped to use it. It will only make you feel sick. We're just going to work simply. Move this." McGonagall set a paper card on the table.

"Just a sheet of paper?" Hermione asked dubiously.

"It takes great mental concentration. Say the words out loud, and act like your fingers are the wand. Will the power through your fingers, and visualize the paper fluttering in you hand. We'll start with 'Wingardium Leviosa'."

Hermione bit her lip. A first year spell. That couldn't be that hard. Could it?

She was once again very wrong. She only made the paper flutter in the air for a moment, not even a full minute, before she was sent off to her next schedule of the day. McGonagall seemed pleased though.

"We'll meet again tomorrow. It's easier the second day. Don't dally tonight, straight to bed, so your brain can rewire your instinct." She instructed briskly. Hermione was still sore, and knew that she was already going to disobey the instructions to soak in the hot tub a bit. Besides, she had promised Hannah.

Lunch was a quiet affair, everyone wary about what their companions had learned, if it was something that in a couple days could kill them. Hermione sat by Hannah and Ernie, both more than willing already to discuss and alliance with her.

"You'd be crazy not to side with you, Hermione." Ernie said logically, eating four bread loaves it seemed, "You're not called the smartest witch of our generation for nothing."

"Thank you, but that's only with a wand." Hermione replied uneasily. Ernie shook his head.

"Bs, that is. You have to know more than Susan at least." He frowned, "I mean, she's' my housemate and all, but we all know she's not going to last. I feel really bad, but…I want to see my family again." Hermione saw a little light appear in his eyes, and involuntarily flinched. The game was already changing him. He noticed it, and winced.

"I'm not going to kill you, Hermione. I don't want to kill anyone really…" He admitted, showing his usual Hufflepuff side once again. Hermione still did not relax, even with the promise of an alliance from him. There wasn't much to talk about except the games, and no one wanted to discuss anything else, because all that chatter seemed pointless.

After lunch was their second time with Hooch, for the skill section.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally this was like 2x longer, but I thought that nearly 20 pgs was a little much. So I cut it in half. Lots of buildup stuff here!  
> Also, here's some pics of the tributes in a nice little chart for y'all!: http://frostfootdreamleaf22.deviantart.com/art/The-Green-Games-Tributes-451825382


	6. Chapter Six

"I wonder what she'll teach us." Daphne was saying, nervously tugging on her hair. Hermione had never seen her nervous, and it did not look good on her.

"Still I'm sure I already know." Pansy sneered arrogantly, "It's all weaponry. I've been practicing for this since it began!"

Hermione bit her lip to keep from saying a rude comment, but someone else beat her to it. Hooch arrived to see Pansy with Elizabeth Archibald off the ground, a fist ready to strike.

"Parkinson!" Hooch's shrill voice was like a slap to the face. The black haired-girl dropped Elizabeth, who stuck her tongue out at the older girl, which luckily Pansy did not see, "You will be killed first thing in the games if you behave like that!"

"No one can kill me, I'll kill them first." Pansy shrugged off the threat.

"I wouldn't worry about the opponents, I'd worry about the game makers." Hooch said, and then pointed in the corner, "Today, we will begin basic training with a bow, a sword, daggers, and bare hands. You will work at the simplest exercises and master all four of them. I must give you the green to head to the next station. If you finish early, you may go back to your rooms until the next class. If you are still trying to achieve these easy instructions after two hours and fifty minuets, then your dinner time will be used for private lessons with me." She said, "Get into groups of six- I could care less but each gather at a station, so it's at least a little manageable."

Hannah grabbed Ernie and Hermione's hands at once, and Hermione grabbed Elizabeth because she already liked the little teenager. Ernie called over Collin to add another boy, and Hermione wasn't sure who their last person would be, but they went to the archery first. Hermione was picking up the bow hesitantly when she heard the last person speak.

"I guess I'm with you five."

Ugg, Draco.

Hermione spun around, "What? Not budding up with your Slytherin pals?" She asked in a harsher tone than she intended.

"No." He said simply, "Was that not obvious?"

The topic was dropped, and Hermione looked at the instructions. Hooch would be by soon to instruct them on the finer points, but they were free to give it a go until she appeared. She was currently showing Tracy Davis the correct way to swing a sword at the station next to them. It seemed as though she'd be there awhile.

"I've shot a bow before," Collin said, lifting one in his hand and testing the weight, "It's none too difficult. All we have to do is hit the target at least six times, not in a row, but one has to be a bulls eye. Easy."

"Easy for you!" Hannah rolled her eyes, "Show us, oh great Master?" Collin picked up a bow, and strung the arrow. He breathed deeply, and aimed for one of the six targets at the end of the little area, and steadied himself. The arrow was let go with a twang and had nearly hit the bulls eye. Hannah muttered sourly. Hermione was not hesitant to pick up the bow, but shooting it was a whole other story.

Wand fights were so…easy. All you had to do was aim and be a decently good spell caster. It was vastly different to hold something so bulky in your hands, and then be expected to string something, pull back, aim, and shoot with deadly accuracy.

He first try was an epic fail of large proportions. She didn't even make it to the target, but only a little half way there. Okay, she needed to pull back farther. Beside her, Hannah was swearing up a storm as she attempted miserably to even get the arrow on the string. When she did, she couldn't hold it up, and she hissed sourly. Collin was letting them fly with ease, and Hermione knew that he would be done soon. He was giving Hannah side comments as he saw her struggle, but they were more exasperated than anything.

Ernie was strong, but a horrible aimer. All his arrows embedded themselves in the walls all around the target, anywhere but. "You should have at least hit one of those!" Collin cried in frustration. Ernie gave a shrug, before stopping everyone and jogging out to pry his arrows back. Elizabeth was at least shooting, but they all hit the rim of her target, and Hermione could see her shaking fingers as she raised the arrow to her face, squinting one eye in the hopes of making it farther up the circle.

And then…there was Draco, the smug little bastard, standing next to his shooting line causally. Hermione was at first going to ask if he didn't know how, but then noticed that he was already done. Bullocks. Draco noticed her watching.

"How do you know how to shoot a bow?" She asked, the words slipping out.

"My mom." He shrugged, "Thought it was manly and worth a little heirs time." There was an acidic tone to his voice, and Hermione could at least understand his anger. Never in a million years had he imagined that the Dark Lord's golden boy would be dragged into this mess, he thought he'd graduate and learn the finer things of being a millionaire. Life was a bitch, wasn't it?

"Of course." Hermione was not letting any filters stop what she had to say, they might be dead anyway soon. She ignored him, and lifted her bow, this time making it a wee bit closer to the target. Draco sighed.

"No, no. You'll never hit the target like that!" He insisted. Hermione groaned, spinning on him.

"How do you know?" She asked, and Draco silently glanced at his own completed activity in response. Okay, so maybe he knew a few things, but that meant he had no right to judge.

What really surprised Hermione, thought, was he set down his own bow and remaining arrows and came to where she stood. He made a pose, "You're slouching, and all. You need a firm, steady posture. Use your mouth as an anchor."

"My mouth as a what?" She repeated, not getting what he was saying. Draco motioned for her to get into the stance, and fixed her arms. Then, he picked up his own bow and pulled the arrow back by his jaw line.

"See, an anchor. Steady it there, and you'll aim much better."

"But I feel like it's pulled back too much." She argued.

"Just try it, Granger." He snapped and Hermione swung it up.

"Fine!" She said, and did what he said, and let the arrow go. It would fail, and then she could tell him to-there was a soft thud, and she turned. The arrow was almost at the bulls eye, just an inch away. Draco gave a slightly arrogant smirk, then waved Hooch over. Hermione was positively sour finishing her archery, which she thankfully did after half an hour. Hannah was catching up, and the men had already moved on. Elizabeth was close to being done too.

"Maybe I'm just not cut out for archery. Maybe I'll be better at daggers or something." She sighed, looking at her three arrows on the target. Hermione was waiting for Hooch to dismiss her.

"You'll get it eventually. Look- half way done!"

"Blaise already lapped me." She said grudgingly.

"Yeah, he lapped me too. What else is new?" Hermione shrugged, unworried. Hooch came over, and Hermione left her friend regretfully, as she moved onto the swords. The first one she picked up was too heavy, and she buckled forward, groaning. No, this was not how it was supposed to work. Surly not.

"Perhaps, a lighter one." She muttered to herself, and examined them all carefully. The next one she picked up was not too strenuous, although she was slightly afraid on any back swing she'd hit herself, but nothing could fix that.

Her assignment was to battle a magical simulator until she won. It was set to the beginner's level, and first it took her through a few basic steps. She recalled in the muggle word once her best friend had dragged her to one of her fencing matches, and the moves here seemed rather similar. Step and swish. Block. Again. Go. Her thoughts became little emotions of detached thought, as she really focused. Her arms ached totally.

But she made it through in much better time than her archery. When she was done, of course, she dropped the sword. It hit the ground with a loud clatter- that no one paid attention to- and Hermione resented the fact now she'd have to move to the next station. She was sweating, thirsty, and her whole body was all ready too sore. How did she ever expect she'd finish daggers and bare hands? She thought about calling Hooch over for a moment, to ask for some water before she moved on, but then took a moment to place herself in Hooch's shoes.

"When you're tired in the games, and thirsty, do you simply think you can just have a nice cup of water? Get to the daggers." She hated how good her Hooch impression was.

Seamus, who for sure she thought would be done, was on of the few people milling around. And he was doing horribly. Much the same concept with the archery- but instead of a bow, there was little sets of deadly knives.

Seamus saw Hermione's glance, and scowled. "I'm not usually a lefty." He growled sourly, and now that Hermione saw his right hand- bandaged and swollen, she averted her gaze.

She wasn't going to ask what had happened. She didn't really care. But Seamus told her anyway.

"First round was hand to hand. Blaise fights dirty, nasty Slytherins. Hooch wasn't even going to bandage my hand, bleedin' all over the place! I pointed out we need to be our best for the games, and losin' a pint of blood wasn't gunna help me. Can't do anything with it. Migh' not even be better by the games. Wanker sabotaged me, and Hooch didn't even say nuthin!" He ranted, and Hermione felt a little bad for him. He had a week, but his dominant hand was going to be awfully gentle and needy when he went in.

Bloody Slytherins indeed.

"Can you throw at all?" Hermione asked. Seamus gave her a dead-panned look, his gaze sliding over to where all his daggers lie innocently on the ground.

"I could'a been done by now." He shook his head, "Like Draco or Caligula. But I'm gunna be here during dinner cuz I can't throw straight at all."

He stepped back, offering Hermione his throwing spot, stating that he wasn't going to get much use of it, and Hermione should at least have the chance to move on. Hermione had better accuracy here, as it was like throwing a spell. Her spell arm was strong, and she wasted no time completing her series. She waved Hooch down, about to move on…and then looked at Seamus. He was twirling a sheathed knife around his fingers, and kept dropping it. He would be here all night.

Darn it, she was just too nice.

"Seamus finished his set. He couldn't flag you down." Hermione made an impulsive decision, lying with accuracy. Seamus nearly dropped the knife on his foot. Hooch seemed suspicious.

"With that mangled hand?" She asked.

"It took him a long time. He's really strong though. And good aim." Hermione lied quickly, trying to shoot him a glare that said to just accept it.

"Let him talk fro himself." She scrutinized the Scott.

"Uh…yes ma'am. I did." Seamus recovered his surprise swiftly, and nodded. Hooch looked at the knife in his hand.

"Prove it. Throw that one. Hit the target." She barked.

"I mean, it took a long time I may-," Seamus blubbered but Hooch silenced him. He gave a defeated sigh and took the cover off. Hermione watched and prayed to Merlin he just made this ONE shoot- and it hit. Sorely off target from the bulls eye, down almost off the board, but by Scott he did it.

"Fine. Finnigan, you can be done." She said, "Impressive."

She left, and Seamus looked at Hermione.

"Don't say a thing. Just go." Hermione walked over to the board and pried the seven knives away, "You don't owe me anything."

Seamus seemed conflicted, but she turned to him, knives in hand. She must have had a threatening look on her face, because he scrambled away and out the doors of the training area.

Hermione took even less time on her own set. She was pretty sure Hooch knew what she had done for Seamus, but didn't say a word. Small miracles.

A bigger miracle was at the bare-hand station. All the highly trained people had already gotten done, leaving mostly girls and under-qualified fighters at that. Not that Hermione was a karate master or anything, but she was slightly confident in her abilities.

There was this raised platform, surrounded by obnoxiously squishy pillows about five feet below. You just had to knock your opponent from the platform. McGongall was referring, saying she was called in after Blaise had 'accidently' crushed Seamus' hand with his foot, to make sure there was no foul playing.

She climbed onto the platform to face Elizabeth. She felt bad, really bad, about fighting the young girl in hand-to-hand combat. She looked so tiny, so little. Elizabeth shook her head.

"Susan's up next. I'll let you beat me, because I know I can beat her next. I don't want to waste my energy on this." She said.

"Let's make it look a little believable." Hermione compromised, mentally adding this girl to her list of allies, and the fight began. They play-fought for a bit, fake punches and hits, until they were rolling on the ground. Hermione knew it was silly to pretend she was really getting bested by a small 13 year old, but they kept up this pretense until Elizabeth nodded, and made it look like she failed as Hermione 'roughly' pushed her off the platform.

Elizabeth gave a thumbs-up to Hermione as she got down, one that no one else could see. As she had said, Susuan was up there, looking terrified. Hermione decided a nice shower before he next class was quite in order.

A little flutter rose in her chest when she saw who was next-Fred.

He looked same as always, the wide smile, the ginger spiked hair, the galaxy of freckles across his nose. And when she entered, he scooped her up big in a bear hug.

"Hermione!" She squawked as he lifted her feet from the ground. She pushed against him, and he let her go, but then a little smile just melted off his face. He set his hands on her shoulders, "Ah, Hermione. I am so sorry." He murmured, "About…this…"

"I chose it, Fred. Unlike the unlucky ones. I didn't have to be here." She reminded him.

"You are a true Gryffindor and I want you to know that I'm rooting for you." He said in all seriousness.

"But your brother…"

"Ron is Ron." Fred touched his neck, "I want him to win too, but he's not like you are. Would he have sacrificed himself for a small child? Maybe- I really couldn't tell you. But you, as soon as her name was called I got this sick feeling because I knew what you were going to do."

"I didn't even know what I was doing."

"Exactly. It's in your blood, it's an instinct. This also makes you someone that quite a lot of people are now going to be watching. No pureblood wants to see eleven-year-olds fight. They're not that sadistic."

"I would disagree." Hermione coughed under her breath the names of some particularly nasty death eaters.

"Not the majority." He argued firmly.

Hermione gave a long sigh. "Okay, what are you supposed to be teaching me? Other than winning the first games, what skills do you have?" She asked. Fred slapped a hand to his heart.

"Mione! I'm hurt!" He gaped, "C'mon think harder."

"All I can think of are the little pranks you and George made when you were younger." She shrugged. Fred snapped.

"Exactly!" He nodded enthusiastically, "Did you think just anyone could make those?"

Hermione thought about it for a moment. It had been eons since she'd seen a Weasley product, and it had been in her younger years. But come to think about it…

"Those were rather advanced skills and spell work." She admitted, frowning, "Actually, it's all rather brilliant."

"Hermione Granger called me brilliant. I can die happy now. No really, can I get that in writing?" He teased, and Hermione playfully pushed his shoulder.

"It's different than potions…" She murmured out loud.

"Someone compared us to what you muggles call…oh, a chemist?" He scrunched his nose, "But look- we didn't have a lot of money,"

"None if I recall," Hermione interjected.

"So we couldn't buy really high tech ingredients. We began by raiding mother's kitchen and dad's array of muggle cleaning supplies and went from there. What I'm trying to say is that first, the ingredients are not too difficult to come by, and second we specifically engineered them to be pranks."

"But…?" She asked. Fred gave her a long look.

"But they can also be deadly." He finished and a shiver ran up her spine.

"But the magic! I can't do magic without my wand in the area."

"We both know MG will enable you to do wand less magic, and most of the magic came from the ingredients over spell work." He said, and then went to a back cabinet, and took out a thick folder, "I've mapped out at least two dozen different things that could be possibly be useful and made in the area. Over the next few days, also utilizing the practice of your wand less magic, we are going to have you make these over and over until you can at least make ¼ in your sleep." He said proudly.

Hermione glanced over the schematics. The first one she picked up was a darkness bomb, which she recalled from a more playful prank. But, she realized, in the area, this could be offensive or defensive. But that looked difficult to make.

Fred stood by silently, like a proud parent, as she carefully leafed through the forty or so designs. It seemed each was more complex and different from the next. But yet, all were seemingly able to be re-created with little ingredients or magic. "These are incredible." Hermione murmured.

"Hold your applause," Fred said, and his fingers traced over the mass of papers, "Which one first?"

"Oh, there's so many, and I…" Hermione paused, "Pick your favorite."

Fred, quick as a bolt, swiped up one seemingly randomly from the middle of the pile. "I had hoped you'd say that."

They spent the time re-creating about eight of Fred's creations from real bombs to a dizzy cloud. Each were numbered and Fred made Hermione copy down a list with little key words. "In the area, if you ever need one of these, just find some way to trace the number really big in dirt or something, and I'll get you what you can't get there." He assured.

Hermione tucked the list into her back pocket as she went to the next lesson; Oliver back in the large room. Ugg, Hermione didn't even have to guess what this lesson was on.

"Flying!" Oliver said enthusiastically when all the Gryiffindors were present, "Is what got me through the competition. If you can have someone send in a broom, or even make one yourself, you are on a whole different level than anyone else that is stuck on the land." Hermione felt her stomach clench.

"How do we make our own broom?" Lavender asked, smacking her gum and tilting her head, "That seems like a ton of effort."

"Well it is, but it could save you. I made my own." Oliver let his pride seep over everyone for a moment than nodded, "I only have an hour- not NEARLY enough time- but for the first half-hour I'll assess your flying skills. For the second, I'll give you a crash course on broom making."

Hermione didn't have to be in divination to know that this was going to be bad. An hour later, she realized she had been wrong.

It was horrible.

After the first few minuets of her flying, Oliver had called her back down and informed her that her flying was less than desirable. Although he'd kept and optimistic smile on his face, it was perhaps clear in his tone that the broom get-away should be a last resort, which she whole-heartedly agreed with.

The last fifty minuets of classes for the day was with Cedric. Maybe it was just her imagination, but he looked happier than usual. Or she could be wrong; Hufflepuffs were naturally a cheery group.

His instruction was with a joint class of Gryffindors and Slytherins. The two houses firmly separated into the different groups by themselves, until Cedric put a stop to that.

"Look, you might think that you can always trust your teammates in the games, your house, but think again." He said, a pained smile on his face.

"And you're saying we can trust those snakes better?" Ron spit a little when he asked.

"Perhaps." Cedric shrugged.

"Bull," Blaise scoffed, "You can't trust anyone."

Cedric paused. "Okay, true, you are all fighting for yourself. But trust me, I've watched and played this game. Believe me when I say that you will not make it to the end unless you have any sort of alliance." He said.

"That sounds like a challenge!" Pansy said. Cedric hit his forehead.

"Ugg, no!" He frowned, "I mean, do you guys even know each other?"

"Do I want to?" Pike asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know their names!" Tracey said raising a hand, "There's Sea-Mush, Ron, Uh…Collin something…Her-moi-ne, Lavender, and Fairy!"

"It' Faye." Faye said, irritated.

"Exactly what I mean." Cedric said.

"Don't group me in the same idiot grouping as her." Daphne gave a disgusted scoff, "I know their names."

"But do you know much else? I doubt it. What I had planned was something totally different, but this changes. We're going to do a little get-to-know each other.

The groan that emitted was mutual.

"See! You already all have something in common!" Yes, Hermione decided Cedric was usually this happy. Cedric pulled out his wand and waved it at a stack of papers. He handed a packed out to everyone.

"You will meet with everyone here- house mate or not- and do this little questionnaire. It won't let you go until you answer it and answer it honestly." He said with a smirk.

It was a fairly simple and not too personal questionnaire. Full Name, Date and Place of Birth, Blood-Type (Magical and Non-Magical), Favorite Food, Favorite Animal, Favorite Spell, Favorite Childhood Memory, Last Person You Said 'I Love You' to, and One Secret They Don't Know About You.

When Hermione figured it was fairly simple, she underestimated the stubbornness of her house-mates and savageness of Slytherins. She, logically, knew that the sooner they got through this the sooner she could go up and eat and have free time or learn something more useful. No one else seemed to think this way, though, and just stood around the groups of chairs set up, waiting until Cedric literally forced them into a chair.

It was interesting, if nothing more. True, most answers weren't surprising, but also not unsurprising, but average at most. The average part was what surprised her. Pansy, when replying to these questions, seemed almost normal. It wasn't like her favorite food was blood, which Hermione may have been expecting just a little.

Draco was clearly missing from the group, the one Slytherin Hermione could even somewhat stand. His disappearance was very curious to her.

It was just strenuous to get through everyone. Cedric finally sighed.

"You all seemed tired, and I'm not going to fight you all anymore. You're dismissed." He said with a wave of his hands. There was almost a fist-fight to get out of there.

Hermione went straight up to her room when she saw Seamus heading there to inform him she'd have company tonight. It was only the polite thing to do.

"Really? Me too." He said.

"Hannah's coming up for dinner and hot tubs, and I'm putting up a curtain. I swear to Merlin, Seamus, if you try to peek at us I will find a way to hex your balls off." She threatened, stringing up a bed sheet. It wasn't like they had thought to bring swim-suits, so underwear would have to do.

"Hear ya' mate. No lookin'." He said, "Me 'nd my boys are gunna be up 'ere just having a pint."

"Seamus you're-," Hermione stopped to yell at him for drinking.

"Being sent off into an area o' death. Yeah, I think we can have some liquor without bein' mothered." He said, and Hermione shut her mouth.

At a little after 9:10, Seamus' friends arrived. Ron, Michael, Colin, and Justin all came in loudly through the door.

"Hermione's not saying anything about us drinking? What kind of alternate universe is this?" Ron asked, tipping a fire-whisky can to her. She clamped her mouth shut, and turned around.

"You're welcome to join us!" Justin called after, and she gave a fake smile.

"No thank you, I'm fine." She said in a hard edge, straining the noodles from the pan. The men all laughed about something, and Hannah thankfully came to her rescue. She said noting as they took their plates of spaghetti and milk glasses over to behind the curtain where the hot tub lay. There were a few cat-calls and whistled, and she figured Seamus told the boys where they were going. Hannah opted to strip down completely, to which Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I thought Hufflepuffs had more shame."

"I'm done with being afraid of life." Hannah muttered, throwing her ball of clothes angrily at the window. Hermione, who decided to stay in her knickers and bra, didn't say anything.

The hot tub was heavenly. Hannah seemed ravenous, and ate her whole plate and half of Hermione's.

"How was Cedric?" She asked, and Hannah blushed really hard.

"He kissed me." She whispered softly, touching her lips.

"…And?" Hermione asked, "How do you think it's going to work?" She asked, "You're going to an area soon…"

"It's technically probably not allowed, but he's coming up to my room tonight. Sneaking in to be with me. I feel so lucky."

"Hannha…" She began, sighing.

"Hermione. This time next month, I might be dead. I've been a perfect, pristine, pure little girl my whole life. I never drank or did drugs, I only kissed a boy sweetly when I turned sixteen, still a virgin, never went to a party, missed Quidditch games to get perfect grades…and I thought, I would be rewarded for this. But where did it get me? Chosen by random to be killed by psychopaths in some stupid 'game'." She said.

"If you want to see it that way…" Hermione started uneasily.

"I'm done being that girl, Hermione. I'm not going to go whoring around or anything, but I'm going to live what little life I have left and not worry so much about consequences or what society would say. I'm not going to die in there wondering what could have happened between Cedric and I, but that I never did because I wanted to save myself for my wedding night. I'm not thinking that day's going to come anymore…"

Hermione sat in silence. She sunk farther into the water, considering her friend's words. "it's not the stupidest thing I've ever heard…" Hermione admitted.

"Exactly." Hannah agreed, and then tilted her head to hear the boys all loud outside, "Yo Justin! Bring one of those bottles in here!" She called.

"Hannah!" Hermione dove to cover herself, "You're naked!"

"Oh, whatever. I'm pretty sure Justin is as straight as my curls, which as you see, are perfect today. And he might be bi, but this is sorta that not caring I just told you about."

"You're crazy." Hermione began to laugh at everything.

"Crazy people win wars, Hermione." Hannah said, and accepted the bottle from Justin, whose eyes were wide. He left, backing away and Hannah shrugged, "Bi." She decided.

"Gee, if there was one person I could have the pleasure of being trapped in a death area with, I'm glad it's you."


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione, over the next four days, took careful notes of all her classes. She figured in either situation of a win or lose it would be useful. If she won, she could use it as a guide to teach future victors. If she lost, perhaps the ones that came after her could see it and realize that even the 'Smartest Witch of their Age' Hermione Granger indeed went through the same pre-trials they did. It was also for herself, really. She was bright and had a good memory, but the way things were thrown at her was a bit overwhelming and unceremoniously switched. One moment she was learning about a detonating rock with Fred, the next someone was teaching her how to make food out of few items, and then after she was back with McGonagall stressing over her wand less magic and animangus transformation. Wow.

The night after all her five days of intense training were finally done, Hermione carefully combed through the notes she had taken.

TUESDAY

Breakfast: Seamus cooked again. It's all fancy but I think he'll have a difficult time in the wild without all these supplies, or perhaps I'm wrong. It was awkward for the both of us, per usual. He tried to say something about me saving his arse in the knife throwing yesterday, but I wouldn't have it. I worry about his hand; it's still really bad looking.

Warm Ups: Same as yesterday. Caligula won today. Mandy came in second, Draco in third. Mandy is a stronger girl than I thought. I came in 18th. My legs were already aching after yesterday, but Hooch clearly did not care.

McGonagall: I moved the paper! She said that she didn't expect that until the middle of class today, and therefore I was quite pleased with myself. She let me take a break and try Animangus work. It's not as taxing, but more frustrating because it happens all at once instead of little by little. I concentrated to find my animal for hours, and I think it might be not what my Patronus is, as weird as that is. McGonagall explained to me that Patronusus can change with age or emotions, but our animangus is always the same. It is the most truthful part of ourselves.

I jokingly thought it may be an owl, since of my smartness, but McGonagall shook her head. She didn't think that was it.

"I think it's a large cat; not like a house cat. I can see it on the edge of my vision…but I can't see it clearly." I had grasped for an answer. McGonagall told me that was far enough today, and we continued back into the wandless magic studies.

Lunch: Went back up to my room with Hannah. We made sandwiches. They were quite good sandwiches in my opinion. Seamus made not an entry.

Group: In depth Archery work today. Wonderful. I was a bit better at it today than yesterday. The ones who got done early though, had to come back and help us. Luck would have it, it was Draco who mocked me about not retaining anything from yesterday. What a wanker. After that he was helpful, and sly- he made me wait to achieve the task until we had less than half an hour left. At first I was angry, but then I realized I would have had to gone back and helped someone else instead of being let go. I wont' thank him though.

Viktor Krum: I remember him from school, back when it was integrated. He was just as handsome. Rumor had it he was going to ask me to the end of the year ball, until he got chosen. I wondered this as we walked in, and he caught my eye and smiled. Perhaps it HAD been true. It was all the Gryiffndors, not one on one, so if there was anything to be said between us, it wouldn't have happened.

Before us, he came from Durmstrang, a notoriously tough school. It bred winners, champions, and celebrities until Voldemort took over. It also had a somewhat sinister reputation. He gave a sad smile. He was teaching us about dark magic, magic that in the early creation of Durmstrang was common classes. It was no shocker that he had won the games with a bit of it, I hated it but he was still alive, so perhaps it was time to be done with morals this and that.

It was a very informative class; not only was he handsome, but he was also intelligent, which was a rare combination. You could see the way he was conflicted as he spoke; he didn't want to teach this. He didn't want us to need it. But those controlled vines that wrapped around a player's neck saved his life. And he wasn't encouraging the really bad stuff, not the cursed stuff, just minor rather more Slytherin playing moves.

"Everyone must be the Slyhterin in these games if you are to survive. Outwit, outthink, and out-act your opponents before the do this to you." These were his final words, which Ron protested violently. He would rather die a Gryffindor than die being a Slytherin, he stated. Viktor just looked at him.

"Then you die an idiot."

Fred: Second time seeing Fred. He seems so happy to see me; I haven't remembered him this happy since George died. It really was as if they were so conjoined, that he didn't talk for months after his twin died. If I die, what will he do then? Lapse into sadness again? If Ron dies, and I die, what's left besides Ginny? Merlin knows she's a target next year, unless there's some brand of luck or a star with her name on it. I don't think she alone with her mother could pull him from his sadness if we both died. Therefore, I will win for my friend. It's the least I can do, after all these years.

But it's not just him I'm winning for. It's my parents. Neville. Artemis. Harry. Everyone that didn't choose, that was forced. I chose to be here, albeit under a stupid moment of Gryffindor bravery. But I couldn't force myself to let Artemis die, watch her die, knowing I could have saved her. I'm just Hermione back there- I have no power, no people to get her out of messes in the area. I'm more useful here. At least, that's what I tell myself every moment I begin to doubt it.

I asked Fred if he was teaching Ron any of these, and Fred paused for a long moment. "What I can." He said. His brother met with him as many times as I met with McGonagall, but he was only teaching his brother a fourth of his inventory.

"He doesn't have a memory like you, Hermione." He sighed sadly, "If I can get him to remember at least four in there, the best ones that will serve him well, we've done something good for him." Then Fred looked a little ashamed, "I could teach him more, but this might be the last moments I have with him. Yesterday, I had some Firewhisky called up for us, and we just sat and talked. That's precious, and I'm not sure I'm ready to be the better man and give this time up when I don't even know if he'll win."

Fred was just rambling now, "Perhaps it's better to take the time I have, ever so selfish, but do what I can. Mom and the others do not have such a luxury even to see him, though, so perhaps I'm already taking too much." Then he turned to me, as I stuffed a toad with my mixture, "What do you think I should do?"

"I…I…" I didn't now what to say, "I can't tell you these things Fred. I don't have siblings to be selfish with."

Fred shook his head. "Here I am, blabbering to you when it's your time. I could do the same with you, talk and laugh like we do during the summer, but you can win. Everyone has faith in you, Hermione." He said, and he tugged on a curl.

I moved away. "That's what I'm most afraid of."

Marcus: I wasn't looking forward to Marcus' lesson. Not that he was a Slytherin, it was that he was a Slytherin and was one of the worst there was. He, much like Pansy, greatly hated the announcement that there could be two winners of the games the year he played. He nearly murdered poor Oliver before the hovercrafts came and pulled them away. He would rather kill the last opponent and get all the ugly game and glory for himself.

I don't think Voldemort would have just let that go. I think that Marcus was wrong and he would have been horribly punished for it. He refuses to believe that, and I'm not the first person to have thought it before. Now, he and Oliver must stay at least 100 feet away at all times (more for Oliver's safety than his). Nasty business, if you ask me.

It was a class of everyone except the Slyhterins, which I'm sure he was meeting alone with. His lip curled and he glared at us; clearly, he did not want to be teaching this, but was forced to. Hey; if you win, you're still forced to be a pawn to others.

He didn't really teach us much of anything. Told us the stories of his fame and glory, but it was hardly insightful or useful. I think the lot of us stood around, glancing at each other wondering if he was born this stupid. Someone would tell someone else and he'd be punished because he was supposed to be helping us.

Or maybe because hew as a pure-blood Slytherin, nothing at all would be done.

Dinner: Seamus asked if he and his mates could use the hot tub. It's not like I can just put a monopoly on it. Besides, Hannah was spending time with Cedric tonight. I worry about that; I think it's probably against the rules for those sorts of emotions to become involved. Yet who am I to tell her how to live the little life she has left?

I took a shower, retreated to my room, and I began writing this.

WEDNESDAY

Two days of hell over, but two days until a worse hell appears. Sigh…

Breakfast: I skipped food with Seamus upstairs to journey downstairs. Seamus warned me not to. Ugg, I should have listened to him. Food down there was awful and not very filling. I had time at least to bolt back up to my room and steal some left-over, but not without Seamus' 'I told you so' look the whole time.

Warm-Ups: I thought I killed yesterday? Please, I was just kidding. Today I felt like my legs were gong to up and fall off! I couldn't walk a step without my knees beginning to buckle. I don't think I was the only one, because we did a much calmer work out today. It was almost relaxing. A ton of stretching and yoga moves. Just working on strengthening the muscles without having to run at all. Perhaps Wednesday will be my lucky day?

McGonagall: She congratulated me on my success yesterday with a bit of tea and biscuits. Then, as I was just sitting there, contemplating everything, it came to me.

My animangus is a Panther.

I never imaged that. I honestly imagined that McGonagall was wrong (which was really quite silly of me) and that it was an otter all along. But it's not. I saw it clear as day, I reached out and touched the nose of the beast and we connected as one.

Wow.

That animal could do some damage during the games.

I could see McGonagall was conflicted on which to teach me. I reminded her that perhaps figuring it out was all the progress I could make today, and it was quite the progress, and perhaps we should continue with my wandless magic?

McGonagall smiled and told me this is why I was her favorite student.

I'm getting to better wandless magic now. It's really pressing. Usually people take years to master this. I don't need to master it, but I do need to get a handle on it by Friday. I cast a patronus wandlessly today, and I fainted promptly after. I think we both agreed enough for one day.

Lunch: I hope my friends didn't worry, but because of my progress, I was out for lunch. I was honestly still on the floor trying to be woken for half of it. McGonagall brought me up some food, and even thought I had finished it quickly, she thought it would be best I rest. She wanted to try to get me out of Hooch's lesson, but I don't need Pansy taunting me or to miss something that could save my life. When she told me right to bed tonight, there were no arguing from me.

Group: Yesterday was archery. Today is swords. Hooch said that there was a surprise for us, and while to some it wasn't a happy surprise, it was quite the expensive one.

The game-makers would be making a sword for each of us if we passed a certain level of our training, but what that level is, no one seems to be telling us.

It was rather unlike yesterday, though, because we got to go into a section with a sword master individually and spend time creating a sword that was perfect for us. I admitted I was better at daggers, and the sword master winked. It wasn't a creepy wink.

"I'm rooting for you, Hermione. My daughter's best friend is Artemis, and she worships you. I will hid daggers for you in the area, and even if it comes to it, send you one in."

"That's quite generous," I replied, "But I'm not sure if I should be honored to have your daughter's worship." I said.

"With that comment, you already have." He assured, and we spent time swinging and giving pointers to me. I asked him, as a wizard, how he came upon the artistship of sword making? He said that it was merely a hobby when he was younger, but was recruited for Voldemort's games a couple years ago.

"I made the sword that went through Cho." He told me, and he looked shaken by it still, "My beauty killed her."

Mad-Eye: I meet with Mad-Eye three times. I've only heard stories but he seems to be a man who has seen a lot. When I asked him what we'd be learning over the three days, he looked at me like I was crazy.

"Just one thing? One subject?" He scoffed at me, "Why would we limit ourselves like that?"

I know I'm going to like him already, no matter his gruff exterior. He knows a lot about the dark arts, but he was mostly teaching me how to effectively stop some things. The first thing we talked about were Unforgivable Curses. He made me watch him perform them.

"Those that master wandless magic- some would not think it below them to use these." He warned. I stared at the carcass of the spider, and I couldn't imagine anything more horrible.

The rest of the things I learned were not as emotionally horrible, but I couldn't really focus. Pansy would not hesitate. Blaise or Daphne would not hesitate. Pike, from what I know of him, would not hesitate. I could be dead and never see it coming.

Lupin: I had long ago guessed that one of Harry's favorite teachers was a werewolf. I confronted him and he only laughed and said I was right. He was just that kind of teacher.

He was teaching us about dangerous darker magic creatures, werewolves included. I wondered with horror if Voldemort would be so horrible to send a changed man into the area as a wolf to attack us?

Oh yes, it was Voldemort. Of course he would.

The list seemed to drag on for miles: manticores, mermaids, pixies, boggarts, thresals…the list of horrible creatures that could attack us seemed to never end. Lupin said that there was a few that had never been sent into the area, so he especially prepared us for those animals, as they were very likely to be sent to kill us.

Could I kill a dragon? Dragons had never been put into the area. I don't think I could kill a dragon.

Ron and I stayed after a little, because Snapes class wasn't for another half hour, to talk with Lupin. He gave us chocolate, of course, and I told him about my progress with McGonagall, and his whole face lit up.

He misses Harry just as much as we do.

Snape: He insulted the group of Gryffindors the whole time, but hey, did I expect differently? And of course he bragged about the amazing potions skills of his god-son, and how they could save you in a tight pinch. I didn't disagree- not about Draco- but about potions being helpful. They could harm, or they could save. They could even be used against an opponent.

Snape basically just threw some books at us about potions in survival, and a couple others to sabotage, and there was this little woods set up. Seamus asked if all the ingredients in this faux wood would be in the area, trying to figure it out. Snape hit him in the back of the head with a book, and Seamus knew better than to open his mouth again.

Lavender couldn't tell one leaf from another! They weren't labeled in a storeroom that was for sure. Even I had to pull out my trusty guidebook and glance between two leaves. One was poisonous, one was harmless.

Snape did let us know that there would be some potion books in the area, if we were lucky enough to get our hands on them. Then he sniggled, as if there was something none of us knew. Whatta guy!

But as we left, he looked a little sad, a little broken. It's one thing to teach a brother about killing, but Snape thought of Draco as a son. Anyone with eyes could see that he genuinely cared for him, something that he didn't seem to do for anyone else.

And he didn't want Draco to die either.

Not everyone is horrible. Perhaps I shouldn't tell myself that. It just makes it harder to kill my opponents.

But even Pansy must have something or someone she loves, and when she dies, that love of something will die too.

Dinner: I told Hannah not to come up tonight. I'm too tired and that lesson today really drained me. I was completely ready to head up to bed and eat something quick and easy when Seamus stopped me.

"You know some stuff about healing?" He asked. I told him my knowledge was limited, but he was persistent. He sat right on my bed!

"Take a look at my hand, will you?" He asked, and unwrapped it.

"I think that the nurses should be doing that." I pointed out.

"They won't. There are none, not really." He said quietly, "I'm going to fail before I even begin."

"Do you cast with your left or your right?" I asked slowly, and Seamus winced.

"McGonagall doesn't know what to do." He answered indirectly, "I can try, but I'm almost useless. I heard you cast a patronus today."

"And I feel like it nearly killed me." I said, recalling why I was in bed as it was.

Seamus sighed and was about to go when I grabbed his hand. "It doesn't just look like a boot crushed it." I told him.

"He really ground it into the ground, even after the crack." Seamus winced, and I tenderly touched some spots, "I kill him first."

"I don't know what you expect me to do without a wand?" I told him, but I felt really bad for him.

He looked at me, and then shook his head. "Never mind, Hermione. Goodnight."

THURSDAY

Hermione put her diary down, and sighed. What had happened that morning was beyond comprehension, and she didn't dare write it down. There were some things that were condemned to memories and this was one of them.

She had woken after about nine hours of sleep, and still with three to spare before the next day or training. She never usually needed that kind of sleep, so she figured it was her body's way of saying thanks for a good night's rest, and she knew she would not be able to get back to sleep.

She made herself a cup of tea, and went out and put herself in the hot-tub. It was heavenly, and really relaxed her.

The sky was just beginning to turn light, and she relaxed back into the water to enjoy the view. She didn't think anyone else was awake to see this beauty. She turned to her left lazily, and saw- wonders of wondrous- Draco Malfoy on the roof of her penthouse, legs dangling over the edge, watching her sunrise! She gawked, and as if sensing her gaze, he locked eyes with her. They broke it quickly, and Hermione threw on a towel to open the window that she saw him out of.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Watching a sunrise." He said, shrugging.

"How in Merlin's name did you get all the way up here?" She motioned, "On my penthouse roof!"

"Magic." He replied, deadpanned. Hermione sputtered, and shook her head. She noticed he still had his nightclothes on, and it wasn't a particularly warm day. In fact, she felt a harsh breeze on her exposed skin, and saw Draco trying not to shiver.

"You do this often?" She asked, motioning out. He nodded absently.

"Every morning." He replied, "Every morning I have left."

Hermione looked at her warm hot-tub, and Draco shivering in the cold. It wasn't like he was being totally horrible yet, so she gave a long sigh.

"Would you like to watch from my hot-tub?" She asked with a inward groan. She had known what she was going to ask, disapproved, yet asked him anyway.

He seemed more than slightly surprised, he nearly fell of the building. Nevertheless, he nodded and made his way cautiously inside. He seemed quite aware that she was watching him.

"Do you want breakfast?" Hermione asked. She wasn't sure why that seemed to surprise him even more.

"Can you cook?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Minor things, I suppose." Hermione said modestly, "Eggs or bacon or toast?" She offered. Draco gave a wry grin.

"All three?"

She rolled her eyes, but went to make him food, and food for herself. When she returned not long after, he had settled himself in. His shirt was off, but than Merlin she saw he still had his sleeping pants on.

"Are you going to get back in?" He asked as she handed him a plate.

"I…" She said uneasily, "No."

Draco shrugged, and lounged all across the water. "More for me." He gave a content sigh and peered over the edge, "If I had a hot-tub with windows like these to watch the sunrise every morning, I'd be really happy."

"Ask your father then." Hermione said automatically, and Draco shot up and gave her a hard glare.

"And have them knock down a wall and install it right in time for the games to begin? For some other lucky child next year to get my hot-tub? No sir!" He said, "Besides. Not worth it." He added.

There was a silence, although not awkward like Hermione was expecting. Draco broke it. "Why are you doing this? Are you trying to make an ally?"

"No." Hermione said shortly, "I'm just being a nice person. You've been civil to me this whole time, and you looked cold and hungry." She figured honesty was the best course to go with.

"Ah." He said, his fingers tapping on the edge, "I'm not with the other Slytherins as allies."

"I really don't care." Hermione said, but Draco shook his head.

"You do though. You're storing that away into your big little head of yours to bring up later when you're in the area planning actions and strategies." He said, and Hermione felt a blush run up her cheeks. He knew that any piece of information was more than valuable to her.

"If I might ask a question, I noticed you were gone from our group training with Cedric on Monday."

"That wasn't a question." Draco said cheekily, stuffing eggs into his mouth.

"The question was implied." Hermione responded, and Draco gave a shrug.

"Fair enough. My father came to visit me." He said.

"A final effort to get you out? Of course you would get out of training to see your parents." Her throat tightened. She didn't even know if her parents were aware of this. No doubt Voldemort would haul them out to see her participate. Even if she won, how could she look at their faces without feeling shame ever again? She noted Draco looking at her coldly.

"Anyone could get out. It's parents. Our parents did not have the ability to see us off. Not even mine. If your parents showed up, you'd be pulled too." He replied sourly, "And no. It was far from trying to get me out. It was a last moment between a son and a father." Draco's fingers picked up a necklace that Hermione had not noticed.

It was not ornate nor superfluous, like most pure-blood items were. It was a simple emerald stone with a little silver dragon with a snake as the tale curling around it. "My artifact to bring into the games. A piece of home." He said.

"I don't have anything really to bring into the games." Hermione admitted. Everyone was allowed one special item that perhaps reminded them of home. Draco sighed, and set it back down.

"Anyway, I heard I missed some great inter-house bonding though. I'm just going to wither away not knowing your favorite color."

"Purple." Hermione said, and Draco looked a bit confused, "My favorite color is purple."

"Oh. Mine's white."

"That's not a color nor green or silver." Hermione said. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"It is too a color, and for that second comment, gee I had no idea." He gave a dramatic roll of his eyes, "Shall we just go through the whole darn list then?" He asked.

"If you feel the need. I'm fine with watching the sunrise."

"Ah, but that won't be for a while. And perhaps if I can get one bloody Gryffindor's favorites, I'll be exempt from going to everyone and having to fill out the darn sheet." He said with thought.

She gave him a scathing look. "Do you really expect they'd do that?" She asked. He shrugged, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you really expect they wouldn't?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, but shrugged. They were quite the unpredictable group.

The sun rose as they did the questions, and they both took a moment os silence. Not long after, Seamus begun to stir in his room. This was when Draco jumped out, and threw on his night-shirt.

"Why so sudden?" Hermione asked, "its just Seamus."

"Try explaining to him that you have a Slytherin in your hot tub." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh come." Hermione pouted, "He's not like that."

Draco gave her a long look. "You're open-minded. You always have been. It's hard for you to see that sometimes people aren't. I used to be just like he is. He's a good person, but blinded. It's better for me not to be here." He said as his final statement, and then got back onto the roof and jumped.

Hermione gave a little shriek and half threw herself out the window to see him on the pavement at the bottom. But she looked down to see Draco dusting himself off in the balcony below. He glanced up, gave her a salute and through his door he went. Hermione was still craning out the window when Seamus walked into the kitchen.

"Hermione- why are you half out that window in your pajamas?"

Warm Ups: Back to horrible intensive work-outs. Hooch is beginning to seem a bit frazzled. We only have one more run after today and then she has to watch us on that screen in the area. I think she secretly loves all of us. Even Draco has seemingly managed to charm her a little. She wasn't mean though, just pushed us. After the breakfast I had with…well on my porch this morning and then a second one when Seamus woke, and the sleep I'd got the night before, I felt very much well rested and fed. Work-outs were almost pleasing.

I managed to get in the top ten runners. I don't know if everyone else just lost will or if I'm really getting that good. Let's pretend it's the latter.

McGonagall: Since we had a lot of time, McGonagall said we'd start with what my magic felt most inclined to today. When I thought about the two routes we could take, my intellectual side craved my panther, but my magic flared in my chest when I thought of wandless.

Because of that wandless was easier today. I didn't dare try a patronus again, because that was a lot of exertion on anyone's part and McGonagall chastised me gently for attempting it, instead I did some level six spells.

We took a break half-way through and McGongall began to lay out the past areas for me. We talked about scenarios and the best options to reveal my progress in wandless magic, because that wasn't just something I pulled out the first day.

Then we tried to coax my animangus out, to no avail, which frustrated me beyond anything else I've ever felt. I could feel it inside of me, like a splinter dug in deep, but no matter how much I pulled and gorged it out, it was stuck.

McGonagall told me not to feel worried, because no one else had been able to transform an Animagus or do the skill work with wandless that I could, but I wasn't comparing myself to the others anyway.

Lunch: We decided- Ernie, Hannah, Elizabeth and I- that tomorrow during our lunch we would go up to my room to talk strategies, as it was the last free-time we would most likely have before the games. I wasn't sure how the day before the game would go, but I suppose that would be told to us tomorrow night anyway.

Group: Daggers.

I was slightly excited today, because it was my best suit. Not like I was the best at throwing by far, or even in the top, but it was what I seemed to be the best at, and I took pride in the dangers that I could. It was a skill that I could not simply learn by reading books, so it was valuable instinctual information.

The man with the swords was back today, and he nodded at me when he saw my face brighten at the display of daggers put in front of him. It began with some informational and history of certain kids of daggers.

It was all very interesting, and I'm sure that at any other time I would have been eating that sort of stuff up. Even so, I was sorting it into the backend of my memory, and it would be interesting at the very most, if I get out of this alive. In the front of my mind, as I listened, I couldn't help but think that the rundown was…useless. In comparison to the games I mean.

It's cool to hear that that dagger originated back in the 1800's or whatnot, but unless we are given a choice from an array of daggers, it's not going to make a difference which one you stab someone to death with.

And because I'm so horribly inadequate with weapons to begin with, all I went for was which felt right in my hand. I could look and use the information to decide what blade will inflict the most damage vs. which would be better for throwing, but like I said before; I don't think I'll get that chance. It may as well be better to get the general skills with a few different, than become attached to one in particular.

And they wheeled out these…mannequins. They were all human like- when we poked them they were filled with fluid and sacks of blood. Hooch said that these were as real to humans as we'd ever get- the skull and all the bones were exactly the thickness and toughness as our own. While practice with everything else had been almost all fun and games, I felt sick without having to be told what we were doing.

"You will attack mannequins from three different positions. From this line," She tapped a line with her foot, "From behind that wall, from the back, and from that loft that is tree height. The glowing eyes will turn off when you have made sufficient enough cuts to kill. We are looking for precise and timely. Give your opponent enough time with a sour throw and they may have time to run or fight back."

And we were left to choose our weapons.

It was gruesome, I watched Blaise chuck a larger dagger at the stomach, and all of the guts fell out, just like a person. Even with the guts and blood on the floor, he didn't die immediately, but he did bleed out. And that had only been the first minute. Susan puked; it was rather gruesome.

It was a harder challenge than I thought. You had to lob it just right, and if you didn't, then it would either make a little incision that hardly bled, or didn't have enough force to really hurt.

Pansy finished in record time. Twenty minuets. She was terrifying. Admittedly, I think we all stopped to watch her. This was clearly her 'thing'. First, from the line, she threw three and only the first was needed. It went right through the heart. The second two hit bulls eye in the eyes. Showing off.

I though, for sure, the back would be trickier for her, but one precise flick of her wrist and that dagger went and penetrated through the back of the skull, and the mannequin fell forward.

Lastly, from the tree, she aimed for the stomach, and it fell and sliced from the heart to his torso. And she was finished.

She didn't say anything as she left, but it left a cloud of unease hanging over our heads. A sharp shoot like that from such angles and distances- without a clunky metal shield, you could be done for. So…I had to be sure that Pansy never came in contact with any daggers. She was almost eloquent with the others, worst hand-to-hand and awkward when using a sword or arrows, but if she got daggers, we were done for.

I finished seventh. I maybe could have done better, but after that show, my hands shook so badly that even if I had gotten the right acceleration, it missed its mark. Seamus looked miserable, and to be honest, I don't think I've ever seen Ron look more like he was going to piss his pants in his life.

As I left, Seamus caught up with me. "Hey, so Cedric told me bout this tradition that the people with the suite do, and I forgot to tell you about it." He said.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"I guess the food sucks down in the cafeteria by the dinner, and it's good to get a good meal in so the suite people usually have a big meal for people up in their room."

I though about it. "That sounds…wonderful, actually. I'll take the girls, you ask the guys."

"Shouldn't we decide who, though?" Seamus asked, and I frowned.

"Aren't we inviting everyone?"

"You want to invite Slytherins?" Seamus looked shocked, "Pansy?"

"She's human too! And maybe she'd see it and remember it in the games as a sign of us being kind people!"

"Human? That's debatable." Seamus snorted then scowled, "You're too good of a person. If Blaise bites my head off when I ask, it's your fault."

"Please. I'm asking Pansy." I hardly thought that he was in the more difficult position.

And as it turned out, I didn't have to ask many people. Soon word spread like wildfire, and I heard Pansy talking about it with Pike if they should go as I walked to Fred's so I didn't have to bother myself by personally inviting her.

Fred:

It was my last time meeting with him. I honestly didn't know if I'd see him again after, so today, perhaps I stared at him a little too much, but Merlin…

And I tried to remind myself that with was Gred or Fred or whatever name he used and all and he had been Ron's older brother and funny in my first few years of Hogwarts, but underneath it all…he'd killed people.

"Marietta Edgecombe." He said in a hoarse voice, "She was just coming at me with a spear. After Cho went crazy, so did she! And I had nothing but my hands. These hands." He looked down and gulped. I hadn't forced him to talk, but today, because I was already making much better progress memorization wise, I'd asked about the games. Killing people. He'd looked so distraught, but said he wanted to tell me.

"And I snapped her neck." He said, "Merlin, I remember that sound. So…clear. Like the sound of breaking a branch with your shoe." He said.

"And then you went on to win." I said, "How…how's life?"

And of course I wasn't asking just a mere conversation placeholder, he recognized my real question.

"It never really ends, Hermione." He gave a grin, a show of teeth, but it was dangerous, "Called back here each year, dreams, remembering that you are now a horrible person…" he shook his head, "Enough with that. Exploding papayas, shall we?"

And I suppose that was just the end of it. There wasn't anything left to say.

Sinstra

Taught us how to read the stars and constellations to allow us to figure out our position. She also added in some divination stuff about the planets and all, but admittedly I didn't listen much to that. Divination is by far the most useless class a Wizard could be taught. Besides, now…I'll admit…I was getting very, very, very nervous.

Mad Eye Moody:

He looked a little shocked when I asked him if he expected me to perform an Unforgivable today, perhaps I said it a bit snidely.

"You really can only cast them if you really mean them. I can tell you wouldn't, not now." He said gruffly, and I was a little calmed. I asked how he could kill innocent spiders, then?

"Because I want someone like you to win." Someone like me? What did that mean? A girl? Gryffindor? Good person? Merlin there could be thousands of defining points that would qualify me for so many people's support in places it shouldn't be. I'm not violent. I am not a killer! Even at the idea of death of myself, I'm not sure if I can do it…I just…don't…know…

He began to teach me the Polyjuice. I almost laughed; I had learned this back in second year, before Voldemort rose. It was when the Chamber was opened. Mine…well, it didn't go well. I can still recall the feel of hairballs climbing up my throat.

Madeye almost laughed, almost smiled at my story. He said that he had a way to make it flawless, easier, and quicker. I had not thought he would have able to be such a great maker of the potion, but he said with a little sly grin he'd done some dabbling in things in his youth.

Dinner

Umbridge made an appearance. I had hoped to be rid of her; she called everyone into the dining room.

"Tomorrow is your last day of training. I hope you've all learned a lot!" She said, and there were murmuring grumbles, and no one really answered, "Well tomorrow is a big day of preparations. During your lunch period tomorrow, you all will meet down here to talk with a designer about your outfit for the interviews in two days time!" She gave a faux smile, "How wonderful. Men all dressed in their finest, women in dresses-a treat by the generosity of Lord Voldemort." She breathed as if we were the luckiest people on earth.

When she left, I called my group over, and scowled. "And we can't' talk during dinner, we're having everyone up." I finished worriedly.

"Well…" Ernie scratched his neck, "Let's talk anyway. Let people see. Let them get scared." He flashed a smile, and was much more relaxed about it than I was. I scowled, but agreed, as did everyone else. Hopefully Seamus would insist on pulling out the wine and everyone would be so inebriated that few would notice us sneaking off. With luck.

I went to bed early, because Hannah went to Cedric's again. I tossed and turned all night, and finally drifted off, although I woke through the night. I almost wondered if I should wake to see the sunrise…because…well…never mind.

FRIDAY

Morning: There was a snake in my hot-tub this morning, before Seamus was up. Blond hair, smirking grin, the works. I managed to shoo him away before anyone saw. Bloody Malfoys.

Warm-Ups: Hooch pushed us harder than she had ever pushed us before. Someone vomited after the first half-hour. Luckily, not me, although I didn't last much longer. Usually she was kind enough to give us breaks, but today we worked the whole hour and fifteen minuets without stop, in crazy hot conditions of the room, with a burning feeling in our stomachs.

McGonagall: I have nearly mastered the basics of wandless magic, and McGonagall told me that if she had ever a daughter, she would have wished that this daughter would have been just like me. McGonagall has always been like another parent, so hearing that was one of the nicest things I think anyone could ever say to me.

I still couldn't get my Animangus out. It bothered me greatly.

LUNCH: Perhaps one of the Seven Hells I know. Make-up and fancy dresses. What a waste of time!

And when I heard it was Madam Malkin who would be designing these robes, my stomach lurched. She…ah…made it quite clearly who her preferred customers were (Purebloods). I was the farthest from that. I was eased slightly when I realized that it wouldn't actually be Malkin in the flesh, because no she was far to busy, but assistants.

We were to eat and be called over in the order that the four assistants had; one for each house. I learned that they were all representatives from the four houses, to best create outfits from the pride our houses represented.

She looked at me, and although there was almost a warm vibe from her, I didn't try talking to her. "Hermione Granger." She gave a sly smile, "I know you."

"Oh?" I asked.

"I was a seventh-year when you began. I know your type." Once again I wondered what her type was, although she was sure it was very much different than what Mad-Eye was talking of. The assistant took all the measurements, and dint' ask me a lot of questions. I was out in about ten minuets, tops.

Group: After the harsh morning, I hardly expected Hooch to go easy on us. I was correct. It was hand-to-hand combat, and brutal. There was a Medi-Witch on hand to fix bruises and broken noses, and we were supposed to go all out. Susan, of course, failed miserably and Hooch got in her face and started screaming. This was about half-an hour left of the day.

Then Susan just started to cry, and Hooch dropped her. I expected her to yell some more, but instead Hooch shook.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Hooch said, and then she begun to cry to. It wasn't even funny; just morbidly depressing. And we were all silent, even Pansy, watching her cry. She ordered us out, and we didn't stick around. Except me; I asked Hooch if I could get her a glass of tea.

"Every year, I try, and they all die. But that's supposed to happen, right?" She said once I had gotten her a drink.

I didn't expect the saddest to be Hooch, but everything was surprising me nowadays.

Sinstra: Probably more boring things, but I was going to suffer through it. Until I saw Draco looking guilty against a wall.

"Not going. Load of rubbish," He scoffed.

"But…but…" I stuttered, wanting to find a reason to disagree.

"What are they going to do? Throw me in the Green Games?" He joked, and I scowled.

"That's not funny." I said sternly, but followed him from the door. In my mind, I told myself I was just here to reprimand him and get him back to class, but really, I had to admit it was either brave or stupid.

"Lighten up." He said with a roll of his eyes, "Now if you excuse me, I'm going to go and practice some more fighting." He said, and left me in the fork of the road. I figured he had the right idea, and found the practice room empty. I threw dagger after dagger until my hands hurt and an unsuspecting piece of wood was riddled with slashes and crevices.

This was useful to me. Star charting was not.

Mad-Eye:

"You skipped the last class." Mad-Eye said as soon as I walked in the door.

"Yes well." Now I felt the blood flush my face, "I didn't find it useful. I needed to work on my knife throwing anyway." I said.

"In Hogwarts, you'd be in trouble." He said, "But we're not in Hogwarts. Instincts, I'd say. You know what you think you do."

Why was everyone always so vague? It was annoying.

Instead I smiled and nodded.

Lupin:

He had news from the official headquarters.

Acromantulas. There would be huge spiders in the arena. Ron looked ready to give up right then.

He said that we needed to keep it hush-hush, that we weren't supposed to know, and he only knew by accident. We spent the whole class practicing spells that could be used to fend off one or a whole pack.

Watch; they'll change their mind at the last minuet and they'll just release tigers or something.

Dinner:

"Are the plates out?" I asked.

"Yes, Mione." Seamus groaned in exasperation.

"And the stove heated to low?" I fretted.

"Merlin, I'm the one cooking woman. It's like we're a married couple preparing for a dinner party."

"Well, one of those things is right." I replied, and tugged on my shirt. It was the absolute best of everything Seamus knew that he was all throwing together. When he read the menu to me when we ran up here, I was amazed and my mouth watered.

I didn't know who would come. I suppose I was more surprised with who would not come. Or who did? I'm just writing in circles now, it was such the night!

All the Gryffindors came, which I highly expected. Faye was by far the most withdrawn of the group, but during the night she became more open. I think wine had something to do with that.

So did all the Hufflepuffs. Back at school, they were our number one supporter outside our own house, so that was hardly unexpected either. And we were well liked by Ravenclaws, but not everyone there came.

For example, I noticed that neither Mandy nor Duke Oakley attended which was clearly their loss. I heard through the grapevine that Mandy was having a breakdown in her room, the poor thing. I was going to bring her food until her roommate- Susan- offered to bring her some when she left. And Duke? I don't honestly know him enough to decipher his motives for not joining such a wonderful meal.

And then…the Slytherins. Three out of six came, so half…not bad. Draco walked in a little brazenly, almost strutting his complete abandonment of his own housemates, and sat down next to me.

"What's for dinner, Granger?"

I'm pretty sure Ron nearly had a heart attack.

Then Daphne and Tracey came together, Tracey tugging Daphne by the arm. Daphne was the cool ice queen everyone always knew her as, and sat rigidly against her chair, but nonetheless soon calmed and even made small talk. Tracey on the other had was…animated. Stupid, but animated.

Things begun to get crazy and there was a poker game going on, people splashing in the hot-tub, trading secrets…and I figured it was high time for our own secrets. I caught eyes with Ernie, Hannah, and Elizabeth and we went into the bedroom.

"So…our goal?" Ernie finally asked.

"Stay alive?" Hannah gave a weak grin.

"I think that maybe we should do this…" Elizabeth began, and she brought up some papers with ideas she'd drawn, and we quickly began to collaborate and work through our plan. Once, I looked up and I was sure I saw a sliver of silver through the door, but I wasn't sure, so I just ignored it.

It was nearly midnight when we kicked everyone out. It seemed few noticed my group's absence and even fewer said anything about it. The only one to say something directly was Seamus.

"So you have secret groups now too?" He questioned almost angrily, and I sighed.

"It's not your concern, Seamus."

"You're right." He said almost blissfully, but through gritted teeth, "It's not."

"Trouble in paradise?" A voice asked from behind, and I noticed that Seamus and I were not alone. Draco. He picked up a shoe from the ground.

"Nearly forgot this." He said by way of explanation. I scrutinized him.

"Were you spying on my friends in my room tonight?" I asked bluntly.

"Not you in particular. Any small group talking quietly is something I'm interested in. Couldn't get close enough without being obvious." He admitted, "So don't' worry. I didn't hear anything. You don't have to kill me." His joke hit a little too close, and I pointed to the door.

"Goodnight, Draco." I said, and he was so shocked at my use of his first name, he scampered away.

I should get to sleep, really. Tomorrow is an interview with Rita Skeeter in front of a million people. But honestly, I'm just too damn afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I know it's been awhile, but I hope the length makes up for the wait XD I've been a busy bee in the last month, I have a) finished a novel (The Game is Called Death- go check it out), started a new pretty popular fanfiction (Omphalos) and re-discovered an old fanfiction and got back into the swing of things with that. It's another Dramione one :)
> 
> What did you think? Lots of different things going on all at once, I know.
> 
> Also, a question. How do you like the two relationships between Draco/Hermione and Seamus/Hermione. I'm trying to portray them as two different loves, because as you know both will happen in this story, and I hope I'm achieving two different feels between them!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize that this took SO long to get out, but I started a very sucsesful story in the meantime- Hiccup/Elsa (because I love weird couples) and that took a ton of my time. I was acctually supposted to update that one but hey, when the writing but hits ya, it hits ya. Thankfully this is the last of the 'set up' stuff and next chapter is the first day in the games SQUEEE! It's exciting.

Hermione woke long before daylight, and she went to her shower. She carefully laid her clothes out, and stood for a long time in the spray of the warm water. She let it run in rivets down her back, dripping off onto the drain like a waterfall. She watched it run through her hair and dribble onto her outstretched hands. She pushed her hair back and breathed as it ran over her face. Because this was life. This was the little life she had left.

A disturbance in the main room alerted her that it was nearly daybreak, and therefore Draco was up. She threw on some comfortable clothes, and went out to greet him.

"You're getting horribly good at this." She said, motioning to the open window and chair he sat on.

"Might come in handy. Climbing trees or something." He scoffed.

"Are you ready for today?" She questioned, and Draco looked at her.

"Hardly. I don't really want my personal feelings displayed across the Wizarding World." He said.

"Then lie, refuse to tell them anything." He groaned.

"That would be worse. Skeeter would make things up, surely. Give me some heroic back-story or something, or pan me out to be the villain in this whole thing. Won't get any sponsors that way."

"Why does it matter if you get sponsors or not?" Hermione asked, taking the second chair next to him.

"They are the difference between life and death. They are the ones sending in water when it's a drought, salve when you've burned your leg, or a weapon when you're the only one left, and defenseless." He described, "Granger, the sponsors are the most important part of the games."

"I thought we were."

"We could all just sit around and die or whatever, but until a sponsor gives us the ability to live and kill, we are little of entertainment. Remember how two years ago, in the game that lasted three weeks, that Ravenclaw boy only got like two hours of footage?"

"Yeah." Hermione said, not understanding.

"He, the entire game, hid. He was smart though, and avoided carefully everything they threw at him. He was going to just…protest it. A kid walking through a forest alone or digging himself underground isn't like watching another kid jab someone's eyes out."

"How very…" Hermione could not put her thoughts into words. Horrific? Disgusting? Appalling?

"Quite." Draco agreed acidly, without having to hear her final thought, "Do you think we can watch everyone else's interviews?"

"Why would that matter?" Hermione asked, and Draco looked shocked.

"This is the first test, whether we know it or not, Granger. It is a high-pressured situation, and it's to see how they react. It's the most opportune time to study our competitors. Plus, what they say in the interviews- building it up for the sponsors, will be worth our time."

It was an earlier sunrise, and an earlier waking time. Hermione had only excused herself to go to the bathroom to brush out her hair when she heard the warning bell for half an hour until the meeting. When she reappeared, she found a confused Seamus staring at the place that was now empty.

"I jus' saw Draco…I think." He said, "I glanced over, but when I realized wha' I was seein', there was nothin' there." He said.

"I think you're loosing it." Hermione said with a guarded laugh. He rubbed his eyes.

"Gettin' to my head, he is." Seamus grumbled, "What do we wear down?"

"Doesn't matter. They're putting us in their outfits anyway." Hermione winced.

"So I could go down in jus' me knickers?" Seamus asked with a leery grin, and Hermione pulled out a bowl for her cereal.

"Your funeral, not mine."

In half an hour's time, they arrived in the training room, which now held twenty-four chairs all set up nicely. Umbridge stood at the front of the room, next to a blackboard and a table with a basket full of slips of paper.

"Sit down, sit down." She said, her hands patting the air, "Stop dallying, we have only eight hours until the show airs." She said, and scowled, as if that could not possibly be close to the time she wanted.

"Only eight hours, Hermione." Hannah repeated under her breath, and Hermione had to pretend she was coughing to cover her laughter, which gifted her a dirty look from Umbridge.

Once the whole group was sitting uncomfortabally, Umbridge walked among them.

"Well, isn't this the most exciting day?" She asked, and Hermione was not surprised when no one agreed with her. Umbridge did not seem deterred. Yes, of course it was a wonderful day for her- ridding the world of twenty-three more irksome teenagers in just one day's time. Magical, some would say.

"A week ago, the world saw your faces…but today, they meet you. It is the most important day of your lives, children." She said solemnly, to which Ron rolled his eyes at.

"We have much to do, really!" She said, and went to the chalkbord, and waved her wand.

"First, you will meet and put on parts of your outfit. Check the sizing, tailor, and then it will be taken away for final alterations." The chalk wrote on the board as she talked.

"Second, you will have time to prepare yourself with some previous questions that were asked, for you want to sound your absolute best on stage. Third, you will be put on your outfits. Fourth, make-up and stage lighting, which men will go through as well. Fifth, we will go across town to the station, which is nearly an hour away, for we don't want anyone to notice us before your grand reveal!"

"Then, at the station, you will each have ten minuets with Rita Skeeter, so make it worth your time! She will ask you some questions, and reveal-something new this year- the all important Skill Number."

"The what?" Someone up front asked.

"You have been watched closely this week, and a highly trained and qualified team have assigned you a number based on your abilities to further help sponsors choose worth-while children. It ranges from one to ten, ten being the most desirable." There were a couple outbursts, particularly from Hannah.

"But what if there was a secret skill we have, that we did not want the others to see? That could be a game changer!" She said, and immediately looked upset with herself. Surprisingly, Daphne agreed.

"I think this is stupid! If we could just have five minuets with this panel, we could show them what we consider to be our best strengths." She said. Umbridge looked pensive.

"Perhaps…something for next year. While all very good points, I'm afraid at this point it is simply too late. Your numbers have been chosen already." Hannah sunk down a little, and Hermione too was fearful of what they would rank her as. She didn't know she was being watched the whole time!

"I know some of you are naturally…" Umbridge pinched her lips into a pout, "Sulky…but please, I finish with this thought…unhappy people who do not arise to be likable do not last long."

With that depressing thought, Umbridge turned and delicately picked up the basket. "All your names are in here, and the order I pick them will be the order you go." She flipped the board to show twenty-four slots, "My chalk will record them, so there's no…misunderstandings."

One by one, Umbridge called out the names of people. Hermione did not want to be first, she was pretty sure. Yet she did not want to be last, nor middle. Last because if she did not live up to better interviews, no one would want to sponsor her. Middle because it was so centered that it was rarely held in memories.

The first time slot was Daphne. Draco was fifth. Seamus was ninth. Hannah was seventeenth. Hermione was second to last…and Pansy was last.

Hermione was a bit sour, but told herself that at least it wasn't last. But Pansy…Pansy would not give them a uninteresting show, sadly. Perhaps Hermione's interview would be forgotten altogether in light of Pansy's most likely bloodthirsty one. Those were the kinds of things people enjoyed to see here, right?

They were ushered to a smaller area that was portioned off with large movable walls. They would be called in one by one to try on their dresses or suits, in the order that they would be appearing with Rita. After, they were dismissed to eat lunch and to meet with the mentors who would be there, for last minuet discussions. Hermione was sour that she would have far less time than most people; she had so much to ask still. Pansy was arrogant.

"I hardly needed training to begin with." She said with a wave of her hand, "I'm fine with this arrangement." Her eyes locked with Hermione, and she gave a emotionless, pitying laugh, "Poor Granger- I suppose it doesn't matter how much time you'd get, so having almost none isn't going to change things."

Hermione gave an unconscious lick of her lips; she saw an uncertainty behind Pansy's eyes, for they both knew that Hermione was smart and formidable, and Pansy was baiting her. Instead, Hermione shrugged.

"I will survive without a last minuet meeting, quite literally." She said. Pansy made a disgusted grunt in the back of her throat.

"Ah, well…we'll see." She muttered. Perhaps it was an achievement that Pansy had already marked her as an enemy, that she was someone that even came close to Pansy's skill level and therefore someone that Pansy feared. She mostly just ignored the rest. Even skilled people like Ernie she was sure that Pansy would scoff at. It was all child's play to her.

They all moved as a group to a room they hadn't been in before. The boys went down one hall, the girls the other. There were twelve make-shift changing rooms set up with their names in cursive scrawled near each one. The attendant formally apologized, for it seemed there had been an error, and they had the space and help to attend to them all at once, so they would all get equal time to eat or meet with mentors. Hermione wasn't sure why this required an apology, if anything, this was better than before. She saw Pansy stiffen, and lock her jaw.

"All of your dresses will be in there. An attendant will help you get into it, and I will come around to make the alteration notes. Please, try not to ruin anything." The woman said with an exaggerated huff, "That goes for tonight too- we auction off these dresses and suits to fans, and it's always dreadful delivering one late because someone had to have BBQ ribs." She muttered.

Hermione tried to hide her digest. Firstly, the fact that they were being used as a advertisement was demining, although Hermione did acknowledge the cleverness, and secondly that if they were so concerned about messes, why off BBQ ribs in the first place? She threw back the curtain to her own small cubby to find a woman standing with a deep red dress with fabric that spilled onto the floor like water.

Hermione couldn't help but let her expression go neutral. She had hoped to be scowling about the whole affair, regardless of Umbridge's warning, and she didn't like being dolled up like some kind of circus freak and thrown on a national broadcast. But the beauty of the dress- from the colors to the little beads that peeked out in certain places was the exact kind of thing Hermione would have picked for herself in a heartbeat.

She did not smile though, because of the occasion, but as the assistant put her into it, she couldn't help but marvel the way that even the flipside of the uncompleted dress appeared. Even this was beautiful.

There were little alterations to be made; a seam taken in here, the decision to lift the hem up just an inch, and letting some fabric out at her bust, just slightly. She was sure that Miss Malkin usually dressed for skinny girls with microscopic waists, but Hermione wouldn't apologize for her bust and hips.

She was not the first out, and neither the last. There had been multiple couches and chairs moved into the area for people to sit, and most were holding little cards and mouthing things to themselves. Ah, the questions.

As Hermione tugged her shirt back over her, pulling the end down as she exited, someone handed her the little card, which was actually a miniature book. She supposed that someone sitting up there blubbering wouldn't be the most interesting of interviews in the world, and no one wanted to sit through that for ten minuets. Her scowl returned as she reclined on a couch, taking up the whole space.

Most of the questions she wouldn't be able to answer even with the forewarning. Unsurprisingly, they were composed of shallow things that either the majority of the Wizarding Witches would die to hear, or things that Rita could easily manipulate later.

What is your favorite cosmetic product?  
Who, from the front covers of Witch Weekly, do you admire the most?

What is something you've never told anyone before?

Who was your first kiss?

The questions droned on much like that. It was asinine; Hermione couldn't imagine that telling everyone that she'd kissed Anthony Hopkins for her first kiss back in third-year would make sponsors jump up and down to root for her. She was a little discouraged by the lack of tactical questions, or abut the game at all, because she was absolutely certain those were the types of things she should be asked.

Hannah plopped down at her feet. Hermione glanced up.

"That took awhile." She said. Hannah gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

"I guess my boobs were too big." She muttered, "That's a problem for them I suppose. Not surprised; most of the Slytherin girls aren't big breasted." She shrugged, and then flipped open her questions, "Ugg, they aren't serious, are they?"

"I know." Hermione murmured, sighing, and theatrically cleared her voice, "Miss Abbott- what would you rather choose; unlimited shopping credits to your favorite store (please specify) or a date with your favorite celebrity?"

Hannah immediately straightened, and put on her fakest voice, "Well, Rita- is it okay if I call you that- to be honest I couldn't imagine anything more wonderful than a date with some big shot Quidditch star that would probably spend more time looking at his reflection on a spoon than on me."

The pair dissolved into giggles, eliciting dirty looks from Daphne a couple seats over. She looked like she was about to say something, but instead shook her head and turned back to her questions.

"We're not going to get any sponsors." Hannah finally gasped out, "Or we'll win them all!"

Soon, the laughter wore off, and Hermione watched the room lazily. It seemed about half found the questions as laughable as she did, and had set them aside to pursue other things. Some girls though, like Daphne and Tracy seemed to be avidly flipping through. They probably had answers to everything. Poor girls like Susan looked flustered and splotchy already; she probably was trying to memorize the whole thing in the hopes of at least getting one mentor. It was doubtful; Hermione thought with a sigh, her 'score' couldn't be good.

They were dismissed for dinner, letting them set their own pace for eating and visiting people. Susan ran straight for the mentors, foregoing a meal, which Hermione found to be a poor choice. They would for sure need their strength today, and she wasn't going to touch the food backstage, lest she 'ruin' her dress.

So, since this was one of her last big meals that she could have, she dug in and ate like a starving animal.

"You're to be to fat to run if you keep that up, Hermione." Hannah teased, and Hermione glared at her.

"Woah!" Ernie said, his eyes widening, "Did you eat all those wings?" He asked, looking at the pile of bones in front of her, "A woman after my own heart." He winked, showing his own little pile of bones.

"Too bad they don't give us stuff that we could sneak into the arena." Colin scowled.

"Where would you hide it?" Hannah asked with a roll of her eyes, "In your ass or something? They give us clothes to put on, and I doubt it's going to have pockets. Chances are we'll have to fight for backpacks and stuff." She sighed, suddenly looking a little afraid, "That's how the other games have gone."

Hermione gave a visible wince recalling the awful bloodbath last year, people fighting over little bags where they and no idea what was in them.

"I think we can do without." Hermione said, "We're hunters, smart people. We…shouldn't hurt ourselves there. We can always-," Her voice dropped away suddenly, a tight clenching in her chest. The words went unspoken. We can always take supplies off of people we kill.

"Pansy will domineer the supplies, no doubt about that." Elizabeth threw in, her first words to the conversation yet, "She knows she's perhaps the most feared, so she'll just live easy. I can't see her choosing to go rough it in the woods."

"She's fearsome, but I don't think she knows survival all that well." Ernie argued, "It's more that she can't. We might not be as good as fighters, but I've been killing and preparing dead animals all my life. I know how to make my own weapons."

"I've read extensively on poisonous plants and such." Hermione said, nodding.

"I know some medical applications like how to make a splint and how to stop heavy bleeding." Hannah offered up.

"See? That's just the tip of what we collectively know. Once that food and stuff is gone…she doesn't stand a chance."

"So we just wait for her to eat everything?" Elizabeth gave an unsure eyebrow raise.

"For now, yeah." Ernie gave a gentle shrug, "We can see where it takes us later, of course. But do we all agree to not touch the bags and stuff?"

Everyone in the group gave a nod or a sound of affirmation. By this time, Hermione felt as though she'd burst to eat another, and they group split off to meet with beloved teachers one last time. Hermione saw the sudden sadness on Hannah's face as she left, knowing that this was goodbye for her and Cedric.

Hermione couldn't think of who she may want to go to; there was Fred, McGonagall, Madeye…so many useful people, and people she had to thank too, say goodbye too. And she could not decide.

So she did something that later she would call stupid.

She went to none.

She instead found herself wandering back toward where they would be summoned in exactly twenty-one minuets to re-fit their dresses and have their makeup done, and sat in the sitting room. She sat alone, and for the first time she let herself think about Harry, and the monster that his death had been twisted into.

She wasn't sure if she believed in an afterlife, but she hoped that Harry was watching her, somehow, and that he wouldn't hate her for all the things she had yet to do.

A woman unlocked the door and came in. She jumped, seeing Hermione there. Hermione recognized her as the master behind the dresses- Madam Malkin herself. She scrutinized Hermione for a moment.

"You are Miss Granger, no?" She asked with a faint French accent. Hermione nodded numbly. Malkain gave little in change of facial expression, but gave a soft nod. She went over to the racks of dresses in their bags, the fabric bunching and creating an explosion of silk and satin on the racks, and touched them. She took out the one Hermione recognized as her own.

"A fine creation of mine," She said, taking it out to look at it, "But no Slytherin would dare touch this, even though the red is slimming on everyone and the gold is understated. So I suppose out of any Gryffindor, I find you an acceptable choice for it."

"Gee thanks." Hermione muttered.

"It will be iconic, of course." Malkain added, "In the pictures everywhere. The golden girl in literal gold…and red. This dress will be out the door in orders." She laughed.

"Won't all of ours, because we're wearing them publically?" She questioned.

"Ah, well." Maklain set the robes back on the rack, "The Slytherins will get…attention. I choose a simpler dress for Miss Parkinson. I may have been in her house, but I find her ways of life…disturbing. I doubt people will be lining up to get the dress of the first one dead, most likely Fay or Susan. But you…you will go far." She said.

Hermione was confused now. "Thanks?"

"It surprises you so. Me stating this."

"Well, I'd imagine it would be in your best business interests for me to not die." Hermione reasoned, shrugging.

"You know, the betting is done mostly anonymously. You might be surprised to find who is already putting their gallons on your name." Malkain said with a meaningful glance, "it would be social suicide to admit names of, let's say a Muggle-born Gryffindor now, but after she wins, that person would be praised for their foresight." Malkain gave a thin smile, "for this is the world we live in."

It went without saying, Hermione gathered, that Malkian was betting on her.

This made Hermione feel sick.

By now the sounds of the girls approaching were growing louder, so nothing more was said. Even if they could, nothing much more was needed. Hannah came back, a simple twined bracelet on her arm, something that Hermione was sure was not there before lunch. She didn't say anything, because Hannah didn't notice that she had noticed, and Hermione didn't have to ask.

She went back into her own little changing room, and this time the dress was put on the correct way, and Hermione gasped a little. She could see why Malkin was so very proud of it, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a little superior that out of all the girls, the Gryffindors that went through this hell every year, she was chosen to wear it. A dress like this could make do horrible things, she concluded.

It was strapless, with intricately sewn golden flowers at her bust, but the stopped at her waist and pulled the fabric tight, so that it accentuated her waist. After that, the skirt fluttered out wide, so that when she walked a circle of fabric bounced around her. It seemed as though someone had beautifully and masterfully pulled up one layer to reveal the same sewn and beading underneath, starting at her left side and winding up. She felt like a princess. This dress probably cost more than she'd ever earn, also, but Hermione didn't care. The attendant noticed her smile.

"It's exquisite." She said, zipping up the back, "Were it in blue and bronze, I'd buy it in a heartbeat, but Malkain wishes not to change any of the colors. About the integrity of the dress." The attendant laughed, whether it was a disguised annoyed laugh or disbelieving laugh, she couldn't tell.

"I hear she'll auction it off, after." Hermione said.

"Well, she waits until the end of the games, things go for more money after." She shrugged.

"I'm sure the winner's garb goes for millions." Hermione scoffed.

"Only if the winner chooses not to keep it; Malkain's gift, she's said two years ago. Slytherins don't need it, some don't want it." The person shrugged. Hermione turned back. If she won, she couldn't imagine giving this dress up.

"Time for hair and make-up!" The person cheered, pushing Hermione out. She didn't get a chance to look around for she was so promptly sat in a chair in a long line, facing outward, and told not to move her head under any circumstances.

"Have you ever moisturized, sweetheart?" One woman asked, running her fingers over Hermione's dry face, and Hermione got the idea that the 'sweetheart' wasn't used sweetly.

"I don't even have to ask if she's ever used any product for her hair, because I already know the answer." A second person said in disgust, lifting up a strand of her unruly hair, "It's going to take hours to fix this mess!"

"Well then you'd better get working," Malkain said sharply as she walked by, "I want these girls looking nothing less than perfect."

"Yes ma'am." The two said, and Hermione could feel the annoyed glances shot over her head. She thought that the simple task of staying put would be simple, but Hermione had to bit her tongue from crying out at a sharp tug of a brush through her hair, and try not to start tearing up as the mascara wand accidentally poked her eye. Hermione turned out to be such a 'difficult case' that her two people requested the help of two others that were already done with their people. The new helpers shared similar exclamations of shock and horror at her apparently obvious lack of cosmetic use.

Finally there were done. Hermione only got a chance to look in the mirror for the briefest of moments, and she found herself to be…beautiful. She wasn't totally against make-up, she just often found it superfluous and a waste of time, but at moments like these…she saw the practical value. She hardly recognized herself.

But the moment was snatched away quickly as she was hurried through the halls to where the group was waiting impatiently to leave. A red blush crept up her cheeks.

"Thank Merlin!" Pansy cried obnoxiously, "I thought they were going to have to preformed plastic surgery to make you look pretty. No amount of magic in the world could make you look desirable." Then she sniggered, nudging Daphne in the side, "But I suppose she looks decent enough, especially the amount of time they had."

Hermione ignored her. Bullies always got what they deserved. Pansy couldn't win. This atrocity would not happen. It was well in her rights for Hermione, during the game, to give Pansy what she deserved as a bully here…death. The very thought, the idea that she considered it okay for the quickest of seconds, sent a shiver up her spine.

They were shooed onto a magic train that would take them underground to their place of hell tonight. For the first time, Hermione got the chance to look around to see what her friends and enemies wore tonight.

Her first thought was no dress was out of place; all the girls looked fantastic, a perfect fit in the literal and metaphorical sense. And the men were dashing- some in wizarding robes, but very high class ones, and some in suits. She was actually surprised to see such a muggle clothing item there, but it was undeniable that the men wearing such things looked ravishing. Perhaps Malkin was trying to extend her business, and this was the best way to do it?

Hannah was wearing a slimming dress, unlike Hermione who felt as though she was going to a costume ball-like area, Hannah's was understated compared to others. But there was a flair of sex with a dipping 'V' front in black lace, and the underneath was a pastel yellow that fanned out like a cupcake insert on the ground. She looked at Seamus, in a suit. He was of course probably not a stranger to such things, being a half-blood and everything. His suit was simple and black with a scarlet tie.

Standing and holding onto the handles just a foot away from him was…Draco in a suit. In a white suit, she realized. The whole picture was startling. She thought out of anyone, he would be the most insistent to only wear 'wizarding' things, and perhaps this told a story all on it's own. And Hermione was sure people would making assumptions about the white; did it signify a clue to an alliance, ie with non Slytherins? But Hermione was quite sure it was because it was his favorite color, he still supported Slytherins in his green and silver tie and silver accents.

She would imagine that white would wash him out, but instead it made his pale skin shine like alabaster, giving off just the perfect difference so that she saw now his skin was not a sickly white but an ivory crème.

"He's hot, eh?" Hannah whispered, and Hermione jumped, angry she'd been caught examining him, "Oh it's fine. I won't tell anyone, but I was looking there too." She gave a low whistle, "I guess they did some magic on us all today, eh?"

"Yeah." Hermione said, turning her gaze away, "I guess so."

The back waiting room was filled with couches and food. Susan went over there, looking frazzled and hungry, and an attendant scolded her and told her harshly not to get messy at all, or she'd be sorry. Hermione concealed a laugh, what were they going to do; stab her with an eye lining pen?

The space was big enough so that most people spread out, unwilling to be near another. A white screen sat in front of them, and Hermione assumed they would be watching each interview, which sent her stomach to a tangle of nerves. What if she colossally screwed up? She didn't want everyone back here to see it. But she also thirsted to know what everyone else would reveal, so she just told herself she would not mess up at all.

The time flew by quickly, and Hermione watched through a slightly ajar door as people rushed in and out, taking little notice of the contestants waiting backstage. Ten minuets before the start, two supervisors came in, one taking Daphne and Ron- the first two- out to wait. The other stayed in to signal for people to go out, although Hermione found the theory simple enough. When one came back, you went out. But the world would work like clockwork if everyone was smart enough for that, which everyone wasn't, so Hermione did understand why that second person was needed.

Their screen blinked on, and the silence that rained over the room was powerful. They watched as the T.V blinked and then a merry and vomit-inducing old tune played the intro to Rita's Show.

Hermione hardly watched her opening comments, it was all over-exaggerated and probably made-up anyway. What did pique her attention is when Rita said she was handing the floor to a very special guest. Hermione's sharp breath echoed around the room…Voldemort. Her and Hannah exchanged looks. A quiet murmur rose from both the crowd and the contestants sitting in the back.

"He wouldn't risk it." Hannah shook her head vehemently.

"He has nothing to fear now." Hermione muttered, her throat constricting, "He's the leader of a new world."

"I have an announcement about the games." He cut straight to the point, his gaze looking over the audience. Hermione didn't know she was holding her breath until she needed air, "In the past, we choose our winners for a purpose, a meaning. In the first games, it was a matter of surviving what I had no idea would be so successful today. Our second games, with Fred Weasley as our victor, was to keep the tradition. Third year, Viktor Krum to show that I have extended my kindness and power to all forms of Wizard life, and whether you began or ended at Hogwarts, you are still a new member of this world. In the fourth year, I decreed that two winners would be crowed, if they were from different houses. We ended up with two former rivals, strengthening my original emphasis that while our school houses may keep us apart in our youth, in this new world, those that cannot co-operate with previous rivals has no place at all. So now, I am here to announce the message and victors for this year."

Hermione couldn't even imagine, but he continued. "It has come to my attention that many still are following my old plans of the world. I have since modified it to create a stronger, better society. We need all three blood- levels, each plays an integral role in this new society, with specific tasks."

Yeah, Hermione thought with a scowl, Muggleborns doing all the dirty work that no one else wants to do while the Purebloods help you run your dictatorship.

"This is why there will can be not one, not two, but three victors this year; a winner from each blood-group. I wish all the contestants the very best." And then, he was gone.

The room exploded backstage, then quieted. Everyone was now looking curiously at the people around them, as if everyone was trying to imagine who would be with them at the finish line. Hermione knew the thought crossed her mind. Hannah, for sure, she thought as she linked fingers. Perhaps Ernie. Yes, those were three people Hermione felt confident about walking out of this place with. Now, the idea of allegiance was so much more to everyone. You weren't only fighting for your own lives, but for the lives of your friends too. And this…was an interesting development to say the least.

Next Rita invited Madam Malkin to share some insights about her designs here. She said that she, for the girls, focused on the two houses colors across the three dresses- two in the singular shade of each, one in both. As Hermione looked around, she realized that Lavender was in a fully red dress; Faye was in a fully gold dress, while Hermione was in red and gold dress. This, which usually wouldn't have, slipped her attention. The boys were dressed similarly with their ties. She went on to say that there were some pieces in here she had been waiting for the right person to wear, although even after Rita badgered her, she just smiled at the camera, refusing to say. Hermione instinctively looked down at her own dress.

Then, the interviews began.

Daphne was first, and she got an extra minuet for Rita to explain the 'scores'. They assessed their skill ability, and each contestant was given a number one through ten, one being no skills whatsoever, and ten being the most competent they could imagine. She did warn the sponsors directly, however, a high score did not indicate that they predicted this person to win. Things happened in the game that are even beyond the skill capacities of anyone, but this is at least a base for people to go off of.

Daphne was given the first score, and impressive 7. Hermione was sure it was because of her covert knife-throwing and close-range skills. Daphne even pulled up her dress and admitted that she had a little knife strapped to her thigh, just to comfort her. Yikes- a sharp blade close to Hermione's skin would not have been something to calm her self down that was for sure.

Ron was second, and he was obviously more nervous, stumbling over the leg of the chair as he entered. He got a six, which Hermione was momentarily surprised at, but she reminded herself he was a strategist, and could beat anyone in a game of Wizard's Chess, so perhaps it wasn't as strange as she thought. Ron's questions pried and pulled about his brother, and how there could be a second Wealsey win, and to divulge some 'secrets' that Fred just had to have passed along. Hermione hoped he would keep his mouth shut about the plans; that was one of her two biggest surprises! If everyone else knew she could will the parts of an exploding tree any time she wanted, it wouldn't be as effective, now would it? Luckily, Ron's face turned red, but he shook his head and didn't say a word. Rita became increasingly agitated, and Hermione knew he may pay in sponsorships, but he didn't say anything.

But perhaps he would, because he did something so incredibly stupid it could only be categorized as Gryffindor bravery. At one point, while trying to worm something out of him, Rita made the mistake of mentioning Harry's name. Ron went from looking annoyed, to downright upset. His whole demeanor changed, and for a moment he looked conflicted. Rita continued to talk, not noticing his trouble. He stood, which caught her attention.

"I'm done here." He said simply, holding up his hands, and walked away. The silence that followed even left Rita Skeeter grasping for words. When he came back into the room, Pansy scoffed.

"My God Weasly, you are looking for a premature death, aren't you? Only an idiot would give up their interview time." She sneered. He spun, and Hermione and Seamus jumped instinctively to hold him back.

"She has no right to bring Harry so casually into this. He died trying to something good, and everyday we continue this, we shit on his grave." He yelled, "I will not sit there and have her use him against me." He said, his whole body shaking.

Pansy just watched with almost amused eyes, and rolled her eyes.

"Harry got what was coming for him." She said, flicking her fingers, "Do I think these games are stupid, yes. But only because It's clear that I am a superior, and I think our Lord Voldemort has lost sight of what's truly important."

It took both Ernie and Colin added to keep Ron from lunging at her throat.

"It's not worth it. Kill her in the game." Ernie muttered under his breath, and that stopped him. He still yanked himself from everyone's hold and stalked over to the farthest couch from her. She looked all too pleased at his reaction.

During the commotion, Hermione had missed Leanne's interview, which she wasn't sure was all too interesting. After her was Blaise, and Hermione already knew him to be a competitor, so although she listened, she found nothing of earth-shattering importance. He was a seven as well.

After him was Draco. Draco looked uncomfortable, which was very unlike him. Hermione would have imagined him to be soaking up the people that cheered when he entered. As he sat down, he fidgeted and repositioned himself. He only became seemingly more anxious when he was given a score of eight; so far (even though he was only fifth) the highest score.

"So Draco, you seemed extremely surprised when you were chosen?" Rita said, leaning in. Draco paused his squirming. He took a long moment to answer.

"My father is on the board," He finally said, perfecting a monotone 'I-don't-care' type of voice, which Hermione was nearly sure was the exact opposite of his feelings, "That help create the games. Was I surprised? I suppose. But then again, anyone is game. I guess it was a shock more than one Slytherin was being picked at all."

"Slytherins usually do extremely well in the games. Most that are picked make it to the final three, and Marcus Flint was a winner already. Do you have any comments about this?"

"We are trained better than most." He said, and Hermione saw a flash of his usual arrogance, although she wasn't sure if at this point it was a mechanical answer, "Survival is at the very core of who we are. Usually, not such extreme survival, of course."

"Yes, I agree." Rita said, "And how do you think your family's money and position will sway your outcome in these games?"

"I wouldn't want to win based on my family, I want to win based on my skill. It may be a comfort to others to have anything they ever need at their fingertips, but I don't trust that. It makes you overly sure of yourself, which is a dangerous thing. So while I respect that I am in a position unlike most, I'm not expecting much." He said.

Their conversation continued. Rita would ask a question; Draco would neatly tie it up. He didn't have any conversations, per say. For his last question was the same one she'd asked the other contestants, seemingly her end question (expect for Ron, who she never got the chance to ask).

"So, if you win, who are the other two people you see yourself coming out of the area with?"

It was the most devious question she could imagine. Rita knew well that everyone would be watching, including the other contestants. If anyone was trying to hide an alliance, they'd be forced to lie. Lying never ended well. If they told the truth, though, that could be more disastrous. So far, Hermione had not been mentioned in anyone's answers, which she was shocked at. Perhaps Ron would have included her, but she would never know. She felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that he did not immediately come to her mind as the person she'd say on stage.

Draco looked torn, an emotion for the first time since he'd begun talking. She realized he was battling with the impulse to sever his ties to his Slytherin companions, or to say whom everyone expected him to say. Finally, he reached a decision.

"Pansy, for the half-blood, because she is ridiculously skilled and I don't see her losing. Not because I necessarily want her at my side, but I'm being practical. On the same line of thinking, I don't know if I could see Granger loosing either."

His final words left the whole crowd in shock. Admitted he thought his hated enemy would win? That he wouldn't kill her? Even Hermione's jaw dropped to the ground in surprise.

Elizabeth went on next, which she was lucky they were allies, for she didn't watch the tape too closely. She was trying desperately to avoid Draco's gaze as he returned to the room.

Next was Michael, and he got a six, which she thought was far too generous for his skill set. She only scowled at him harder when she was, once again, listed as the person he saw coming out of the arena with, along with Ron. Her and Ron did share a surprised look, neither expecting his choice, and Hermione realized that Michael didn't really have any friends or allies here to choose otherwise. And perhaps this was the luckiest thing she could imagine. Watching Ron die would be one of the worse things Hermione would do, if it came down to it.

Fay got a five, also shocking Hermione. She was so nervous that she squeaked multiple times during her interview, making it very difficult to focus on what was being said. Instead, Hermione found herself mentally counting the number of mouse=like sounds she emitted.

Seamus got a six, which Hermione thought was dreadfully unfair, especially compared to Michael's six. Seamus was perhaps the only person that could beat Fred in a bomb or explosion making contest. He could simply blow everyone up, if he so chose. He was also the first to be charismatic to the crowd and Rita, laughing and turning up his Irish charm up to full volume. Despite his average number, Seamus would get sponsors, and Hermione predicted mostly female ones at that.

She kinda zoned out, she would recall later, during the next couple of interviews- about six people- one of the only memorable things was Susan breaking into tears, only solidifying her very low score of four.

It wasn't until Ernie took the stage- the 16th interview- that she actively perked up. He stayed to the script that they had agreed on, what they were going to say, what they weren't. He marked Hannah and Hermione as his two survivors with him, making this the fifth person picking her. Apart from Pansy, who had a technical six (Justin commented she would probably win, although he didn't want her to and choose a different half-blood out of emotion over logic) this was apparently the most likely choice.

Hermione hoped she wouldn't disappoint anyone. Hannah was much the same- she got a six, which Hermione saw her deflate visibly on the screen, but Hermione was sure there was more up her sleeve than a mere six, so she was still confident in her friend.

Four people late, Hermione was getting ready to go. Pike Webber was in front of her, and he didn't acknowledge her more than send a disgusted sneer and biting comment her way.

"Everyone's favorite, eh?" He growled, "You're nothing special. Not without tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb to find trouble. Oh, wait, one of those are dead."

Hermione breathed deeply, and found an expected smile in her anger. She was sure her expression pissed him off more than anything she could say.

When he took the stage, Hermione watched him from the wings, holding her breath. Unfortunately, Pansy joined her a moment after Duke left the interview. They didn't talk, just sent hostile glares at each.

Pike received an eight as his score, which made Hermione's blood boil. He was almost as disgustingly gruesome and messed up as Pansy- that was awarded now, was it? He was unapologetically confident during his interview, grinning leery and assuring a bloodbath for him.

All to soon, it felt as though he was in and out within only two minuets, although it actually had been ten. Hermione hardly registered her name being called over the speakers, and the applause that followed. She walked out, forcing a smile. Her face scanned the crowd, and in it, time seemed to slow down.

All the Weasleys that were left were in a row in the middle. Next to them was Neville, who gave her weak thumbs up. Then Artemis. And sitting next to Artemis were…oh, Merlin, it was her parents!

She had hoped they wouldn't be found and forced to see this, watch their daughter die for a world they didn't understand. They probably wondered why she didn't just leave- being a Muggle was better than dead, right? Their eyes were so sad, full of just anguish. Why? They seemed to ask, Why did you volunteer to do this?

She hoped that they wouldn't hate Artemis, if she died. That they would not blame a young girl that had no choice in the matter. She stumbled, her confident stride stumbling in the split second she saw them. Miraculously, she managed to make it to the chair right across from Rita, who was smiling like a child on Christmas. Her and Rita…well they didn't see eye-to-eye. During Hermione's fourth year, she had found the reporter to be an unidentified animagnus. They had an 'agreement' since then.

Hermione turned to see an 'eight' flash on the screen, and she sighed a breath of relief. It was a number only shared by herself, Pike, and Draco. To be up there with the 'vicious' Slytherins was comforting, more so than it should be in any other situation.

"Hello, Hermione! You seem to be the woman of the night. And it can be expected, in such a stunning dress. It's stunning, right everyone?" Rita asked, giving an over exaggerated smile to the crowd. The audience went wild, and Hermione felt a blush creep up her face.

"Its' beautiful." She agreed, focusing on keeping her breathing and voice steady, "I'm lucky to wear it."

"So," Rita said, coming down and leaning in, which she did when she was asking a big question, "What made you volunteer for a girl, when you yourself were only moments away from being spared of these games?"

Hermione could have anticipated this coming. "It was…I didn't know what I was doing until it happened. But, she was so young, I thought. If she has to be in the games one day, how is it fair to have her go now, when she could have years to practice?" She questioned.

"A very brave thing to do." Rita agreed solemnly, "And it has made you unmistakably popular with the watchers, not that I'm surprised. Although it is possible…" Rita, for once in her life, seemed unsure of how to continue, and even afraid, "…no one wants to see an eleven-year-old slaughtered." She murmured, almost so quiet that Hermione wondered if everyone else heard it.

It was so utterly surprising, ripping back the layers of makeup to reveal that, gasp, Rita was human! Her sarcasm melted away, when she realized Rita was looking to the left, where Voldemort disappeared. If he watched this, heard that, she could be horribly reprimanded. Hermione had to admire her words, just this once.

"I agree." Hermione whispered too, "It's…sick." Rita took a moment to compose herself, and then the questions that followed were mostly common stuff about strategy, her allies, and the superfluous stuff like her favorite place to shop, mentor that helped her the most, and ect.

She answered Ernie and Hannah for her final question, just as they had too. If it wasn't clear those three at least were in an alliance, it should be now. On her way out, she mused at the irony of it all. Hufflepuffs, those supposed to be all love and flowers, were the two people she was betting on to survive a murder game.

Pansy sauntered out, smiling and waving like it was the most natural thing in the world. Hermione hung back to watch. Pansy got a nine, which elicited many sounds and gasps. Pansy looked like she had completely expected it. Her questions were answered much like Pike's and each of them made Hermione want to vomit more and more. It wasn't until her last question that really scared Hermione.

"So, Pansy, you know what question is coming. Who are the two people you'll be walking out of that arena with?"

Pansy looked offended. "No one." She said, and Rita startled back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-,"

"No, you heard me right." Pansy assured, turning to the camera, "Lord Voldemort, if you're watching, you should know that I don't share anything. Especially not victories. If I don't come out alone, I don't come out a victor at all." She turned back to Rita, "Does this answer your confusion?"

"Very much so." A dark shadow passed across Rita's face, "Give it up for, Miss Parkinson everyone." Few people clapped, but Hermione knew she'd made her point.

She was a killer.

They got back late, and most people went right to their rooms. Hermione included. Her and Seamus really had no words to share, just gave each other sorry looks. Something in her heart thudded, after sharing a room with him for a week, she found it hard to imagine him dying too now, after knowing him so well. He seemed just as disturbed.

Hermione wished she could say that she, logically, forced herself to sleep because she would need it tomorrow. That she just pushed aside all her worries and slept soundly. That she didn't freak out, that she was the strong person everyone so expected her to be.

But that would be a lie.

Instead, she spent most of the night curled on the bed, staring at the wall, clutching her stomach in pain. She eventually carried her blankets out to the porch, so when she began to cry she wouldn't wake Seamus if- bless his heart- he managed to sleep.

And it hit her. All this training, and Hermione, could die. Twenty-one people would die, or more, why shouldn't that be her? Why should she get to be so special and apart form the rest? Why should she be able to survive when everyone she cared about could not?

By dawn, her sobbing had ceased, and she lay numbly, letting the cold air wash over her, staring blankly at the sky. She hardly registered when Draco climbed onto the patio with her.

"Blimey, Hermione. You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

Hermione was silent, and only closed her eyes hard, biting her lip so she didn't cry again. Draco sighed, and collapsed on the chair. She looked up and saw puffy rings underneath his eyes, and she realized with a jolt he had been crying too. His hair was messed up, and his night-shirt was buttoned incorrectly, leaving gaping holes.

"I'm a mess too. It's hard to imagine this is my last sunset." He whispered. Hermione found her voice, rough and strained, but forced it up.

"You'll last the first day, Draco." She said softly, "I have faith in that."

"So will you." He said, looking at her.

"I hope…" She replied in a small, afraid voice, "If you kill me…make it painless?"

"Huh? Why would I kill you?" He asked.

"Because we are enemies. And we don't have time for second thoughts about that anymore." She said, hardening anything she ever felt for anyone other than the two people she would be trying to keep alive. Anything she ever felt for Ron, for Luna, for Lavender, for Seamus, and now for Draco of all people had to die. She could not afford it to live.

He seemed to understand that, and was even a little hurt. Then his eyes glazed over with a certain hated and hardness, and he spoke in a tone Hermione hadn't heard him use with him for years, "I guess so. Despite the fact you may win, you'll still be a mudblood."

It stung, but Hermione felt at this point, it was what both needed to say. She nodded, turning the other way. Draco left with out so much of a sound. She let the pain, the anger, and the affronted feelings of being called something so vile overtake her until anything she felt for Draco previously was crushed like a spider underneath her hate.

Yet Hermione had to wonder, in that moment, if those words for the fist time in Draco's life, were in its theory, a lie.


	9. Chapter 9

"Erm…Hermione…you okay?" Hermione lifted her head to hear Seamus' voice startling her from her silence. She sucked in a large gasp of breath.

"Fine. Just fine." She lied, forcing a neutral look on her face. Seamus looked at her with disbelief, but he just scowled and shook his head, turning away.

Hermione stayed out a great deal longer, staring at the now bright sky. Somewhere in this city, were her parents, watching the TV waiting to see their daughter live or die. Somewhere in this city people were gathering popcorn and fire-whisky to watch the first day, placing bets, and making deals. And she had to question if anyone one person in this city sat there thinking that somewhere, there were twenty-four kids going to their deaths.

But of course, that was too real for everyone that wasn't playing, wasn't it? No, instead it was like Hermione- and her classmates- were ghosts, phantoms, a game piece that was only real on the TV screen. God forbid these be a child that had their whole lives in front of them.

People didn't think like that.

Seamus was eating his breakfast, or more like letting it grow cold as he stared at a wall. A feast of every breakfast food Hermione could imagine was spread on the table in front of her, but it was hardly touched. Even though her throat felt like it was coated in acid, Hermione forced herself to eat as much as she could.

"You should eat." Hermione murmured, staring down at her eggs, "Who knows-,"

"When I'll eat again?" Seamus finished, "I know, I know." He sighed, "Me mum, hope she's not worrin too much. Wish she didn't have to watch me die, she has a farm to take care 'o." He said, poking at a sausage without actually picking it up.

"What kind of parent would they be if they didn't care at all?" Hermione asked, in that moment, glad her parents looked so upset. She could have parents that just shrugged it off, didn't care that she was here. She wondered briefly if that's how Mr. Malfoy was right now. He'd always seemed so aloof with his son; it was hard to imagine he cared.

Yet she recalled him fighting with Umbridge after Draco's name was chosen. Still that was shock, not the agony of loosing a child. Anger instead of sadness. Did that say something?

"So…"Hermione sighed, growing tired of the silence, the grimness in the air, "What was your favorite memory of Hogwarts?" She asked. Seamus looked at her curiously.

"Wha?" He began to ask.

"Oh, come on." Hermione forced a smile, "I don't want to talk bout the games. I want to talk about happy things."

"Okay." Seamus said, scrunching his face, but nodding, "Yeah. Uhm," He sucked in through his teeth thinking, "Malfoy gettin turned into a ferret." He chuckled.

"Even if that was Barty Crouch Jr, I still think it was perfect." Hermione agreed, laughing through her fingers, "It fits him perfectly."

"Or…exams being cancelled first year." Seamus offered. Hermione flicked a grape at him.

"You would like that. I was devastated." She recalled, rolling her eyes.

"C'mon, whatta bout you?" Seamus asked, "Your favorite memory."

Hermione knew without thinking, "Third year, before…well this. Harry, Ron, and I went into Hogsmead for the first time. Harry snuck out under an invisibility cloak." She recalled, "Using a magic map made by his father and friends called the Marauder's Map. It showed you where anyone was in Hogwarts at any time."

"No way." Seamus shook his head in disbelief, "You're lying!"

"It was so cool!" Hermione said, "I can't even imagine the amount of skill that it took to make it-,"

"Where's it now? I'd love to see this!" Seamus said, brightening. A dark scowl graced Hermione's face.

"Voldemort destroyed it, third year." She whispered in a harsh tone, "Along with anything else that was valuable to the school." Seamus sobered.

"Oh." He said, sliding down, "It always comes back to him." He muttered, glancing out the door. Hermione could tell the mood was gone, all happy memories once again locked away because today couldn't be ignored.

They ate, staring at the ground. They didn't know when they were expected at all.

"I'm afraid. Terrified. Everyone thinks I'm some sort of…I don't know what they think, but no one thinks I'll die." Hermione let the words spill from her, because she hadn't told anyone else, and she may not get the chance, "What if I die, Seamus? Let everyone down? I hate that I'm everyone's choice-they all thought Harry was their choice, and look at him!"

Seamus stared at her, in a silent surprise, for a couple moments.

"Hermione." He said, her word, so simple from his mouth, but yet so apologetic, "In my interviews, I lied. I-,"

He never got to finish was he was about to say, because the door opened without any warning. Umbridge stood, glancing around.

"Well, you two haven't burned the place down." Umbridge said, "Thank Merlin, other people need to stay in here once the games begin." She said.

"Are you coming to take us there?" Seamus sounded childish, and Umbridge smiled. Hermione wanted to punch her.

"Yes, we will take you down floor by floor, yours is the last- to where you will change into the official games gear. Exciting, isn't it?" Umbridge gasped, "I can't wait." She said, as if she was anxious for a new season of a beloved television show to start.

"Do you men want some breakfast? Horrible to let it go to waste." Seamus asked. The two guards looked at each other, and one came forward, despite an annoyed hiss from Umbridge.

"I'm hungry. Didn't eat this morning." The guard said with a mouth full of bacon.

"What's going to happen to our things?" Hermione asked, giving a glance back to the room she slept, thinking of her chest filled with quills, her favorite books, a journal and other personal items. She hadn't even wondered before now what would happen to them.

"We keep them, until you win. If you don't, they make for wonderful charity auction items." Umbridge gushed. Hermione felt sick; the families didn't even get their child's things? They were sold off to some creep that would have the audacity to buy a dead child's person items, like it meant something to anyone other than their families? Sesames looked just as disturbed, but Hermione knew if she said anything now, that there could be consequences later.

Once the guard was done demolishing what was left of their breakfast, they were led, one by one, down the stairs. They were loaded into a five-person helicopter, where a tracking device was implanted in their skin. Hermione cringed at the pain, but reminded herself this was probably going to minimal compared to everything else that may happen.

The whirl of the wings was too loud to ask Seamus what he was going to say, although the question burned like fire in her mind. He glanced up at her, every so often, making her desire to know ignite faster.

She never got the chance.

An hour later, at the destination, it wasn't a moment after she touched the ground she was pulled a different direction than Seamus.

She was put into a room labeled '24' and it was simple. There was a small couch with some clothes lying upon it, and a little chute that would take her up to the starting place. The room was not larger than a handicapped person's bathroom stall, and Hermione didn't know if she'd have much time, so she stripped off quickly. She had a pair of pants that fit to her nicely, yet was warm and snug. She detected a magical charm on it; these were not average pants. She had a shirt of the same material, and a large but snug thick jacket that she would perhaps wear around Christmas time. She was given also a hair elastic, and she stuffed her unruly mane into a ponytail. She donned the thin, but once again warm socks, and the boots sitting. The main color was black, but there were gold and red inserts and accents all around, accentuating curves.

She was just looking at herself in the mirror when the door opened.

"Madam Malkin." Hermione dipped her head, "I'm guessing you made these too?"

"Voldemort and I have a very prosperous agreement with these games." Malkin agreed with a small grin. Hermione gave a slow nod, trying to figure out why she was here.

"Miss Granger, you are allowed one item in the games. Do you have an item you intended to bring?" She asked. Hermione knit her eyebrows. She wanted to hit herself on the head; she couldn't believe she forgot about that rule! So many useful things sitting back on her bed that she could have brought!

"No." She admitted, growling, "I didn't."

"Well, if I may…" Malkain took a beaded bag from her robs. Hermione recognized it as a souvenir she'd gotten with her parents when they went to India for a vacation one summer. It wasn't useful, though, quite small. Yet because Hermione had no other choice, she felt warmed by the idea of having something so familiar with her. She tried to clasp it onto her coat, but her fingers were shaking too hard.

"Let me." Malkin offered. She came forward, leaning down, and as she did, she spoke softly. Hermione had to strain to hear.

"I placed an undetectable extension charm on it. Don't look in it now; the guards believe it is just a bag, but some friends have provided you with some help."

"Some friends." Hermione whispered, trying not to move her mouth, as her eyes noticed three different cameras in the room, and she expected there were other charms too.

Madam raised her palm, just slightly, nothing conspicuous as she moved to clasp Hermione's shoulder, but in that flash of a second, Hermione saw what she was supposed to see. Etched onto the back of her large ring she wore as a bauble, was a sigil she couldn't misidentify.

"Order of the Phoenix." She said in a huff of breath, so quietly that her voice strained. Madam Malkin just smiled. Hermione didn't have time to ask why or how, because Malkain straightened herself and left.

Hermione wanted to dump everything from the bag onto the floor now, but she knew she had to wait until they couldn't trace it back to Malkin or anyone else. She'd have to get more supplies, so when she dumped it all out, it would be more covert. A guard came into the room next, informing her to get on the platform. She complied.

The countdown began. And in that moment, Hermione had a horrible though. She may never see her parents again; she never got to say good-bye. Turning and hoping that these video cameras were streaming to a place where they were showing film, she began to frantically sign language at the black dot.

Mom, dad, I love you. Mom, dad, I love you. Mom, dad, I love you.

Back before she'd gone to Hogwarts, she'd gotten really sick and had been unable to talk for a week. Instead of just writing out what she wanted, Hermione had insisted her and her parents learn sign language. Although she didn't learn it completely, these were words she knew by heart.

She prayed to any god that existed her parents saw.

All too soon she felt the ground move beneath her and she felt herself moving up. She blinked into a bright sun, and found herself on one of twenty-four circles all facing inward to an empty meadow. But wait, it wasn't empty. Hilts of knives and daggers were sticking out of the ground. She would bet her beaded bag that one of them was for each of them, made by their mentor. If she could get to it.

She spun around, careful not to step off, as they'd been warned thoroughly that would be an automatic death until they were supposed to, and saw a ring of trees around them, with bags hanging from the branches. It was only a moment's connect of eyes she made between herself, Hannah, Ernie, and Elizabeth, that they knew they were heading west.

In these moments, Hermione also registered it was really warm outside. And not just warm; sizzling. It was a perfect summer day, a dog day, where she would have liked nothing more to strip off all her clothes and jump into a lake. Some were already discarding the jacket, snorting with disgust, and throwing them away. Hermione was tempted too, but then she realized that Malkin wouldn't have given this to her without good reason, especially when it seemed she was on her side. No, she had to keep this, she just wasn't sure why yet.

And if she never used it, extra fabric could make splints, or hammocks, or a number of other things. She pushed up the sleeves, but wasn't going to risk loosing this.

Five.

Hermione looked around.

Four.

She saw Pansy eyeing the meadow in front of her with curiosity.

Three.

Ernie caught her eye, and shook his head looking at the meadow. Yes, she agreed, it wasn't worth it to fight for these now. They would run.

Two.

She made the mistake of looking at Seamus, who looked more terrified than she'd ever seen him before. And when he looked up, she felt a flush come to her face, an unfamiliar feeling.

And she realized in one moment, all these people, would be out to kill here. They would be her enemies.

One.

There was no time to question.

There was only time to go.

Faye Dunbar was nothing more than a nervous wreck. She had expected her low score; of course, she wasn't made to be a killer or a murderer. She knew she'd be lucky if she lasted a couple days.

Unlike most, Faye accepted the undeniable fact that she would not win. No, instead her whole family would watch her die.

And it's what killed her the most, is that she wasn't even supposed to be at Hogwarts. When there was murmurings of Voldemort's uprising, her parents had uprooted her and her brother and sent them to Beaubaxtons, which they were assured would never be taken by him. But they were wrong. And she was sent back to that godforsaken place, picked to be in these games, and her parents would live with the idea that they were betrayed.

The bell rang and Faye literally had no plan. She tripped as she exited the platform, her foot hooking on a knife. She would have taken it had she known how to use it, or hadn't had the thought that she might accidently impale herself on it. No, instead she saw the tree-line, and while getting there wasn't the most original plan in the world, it was still more than she'd had literally five seconds ago. Lavender leapt past her, and the fellow Gryffindor' shoulder hit her own, causing her to stumble once again.

Around her, she saw people sparring. She saw Pansy pulling weapons from the ground like it was water and throw, although often missing her target. Faye began to crawl, desperately.

One cannon made her leap from her skin, so much that she felt tears trickle down her face. She was terrified.

A hand grabbed the back of her foot, and Faye didn't even have the senses to fight him off. Instead, she just meekly turned around. She saw a flash of brown and blue on the lapel of a male's suit, surprised at the violent look in the eyes of a boy who had once been a friend. Funny, how things ended. How second year, on Valentine's day, he'd given her a card with a blush, which lead to him standing above her with a rock in hand.

It was because she knew him so intimately; she found a struggle of a voice.

"Please, let it be-,"

The go-cannon rang in the distance, and Hermione took a leap off the platform, landing awkwardly. She picked herself up and ran straight, not bothering to look back to see if her allies were following. She passed two trees, both taunting her with hanging bags, but she knew if she took the time to get them, weaponless, that someone would get her from behind.

A knife whizzed past her, nicking her arm. She cussed out loud, swerving, missing another. She took a wild guess that it was Daphne, who had been directly to her right, but she wasn't going to stay and find out. She tripped, though, over a knife imbedded deep into the ground. She yanked at it, turning to see that it wasn't Daphne, but Pike who had thrown those knifes.

She pulled with all her might, and saw Wayne Hopkins scrambling to get away too, a backpack strap clasped in pale fists. She wasn't sure in that moment if she was going to kill him, but she never got the chance. He suddenly fell, his eyes turning glassy, staring at Hermione not more than a foot away, an axe deep into his skull. A cannot boomed overhead, signaling the first death, and many to follow.

Hermione resisted the urge to scream out loud. She did it silently, all her thoughts blocked out by the blood curdling howl that erupted from her brain. Looking up, she saw Pike approaching. He had no weapons, but he no longer looked scrawny. He looked bloodthirsty.

In shock, Hermione threw the knife that she wrenched from the ground with every ounce of power, and it hit his shoulder. He yelled, and Hermione took the moment to yank the bag from Wayne's dead fist, and run away. She hoped by the time he pulled the weapon from his shoulder she'd be far-gone.

Hermione was far into the forest when the second cannon sounded.

Wayne Hopkins nervously hopped on one foot and another. He knew that it would be just his luck to slip and die in front of everyone, just because he was clumsy. He had no plan, not really. He and Justin had briefly discussed some sort of idea, but it was all rudimentary.

Find water, find shelter, and hide. They both knew that they were no match for the likes of Pansy, or even Hermione for Merlin's sake. They could kill some, but they'd both be better off laying low until they had to do something, or they could get reinforcements from somewhere.

He'd gotten a five, and Justin a six. They weren't overwhelmingly good numbers, but he was fairly confident that more people would send him things than someone like Susan. She was wiping away tears, and he wanted to feel sorry for her- a former Hufflepuff- but he just…didn't. Because he saw her, and Wayne saw one less person he'd have to worry about standing in between him and his life and his magic.

The cannon went off, and Wayne was woefully unprepared. Justin took off like a jackrabbit one-way, and all Wayne could do was hope to follow. He took a long way, almost tripping over a pack that had fallen off a tree. Taking it as a good omen, he snatched it as he ran.

His brain was having an overload of all the people around him, the weapons, the smell of blood already in the air. He heard a maniac laugh from behind- Pansy- and he didn't want to be anywhere in front of where Pansy was, so he made a choice to divert and run the opposite direction.

A ball with spikes just barely missed his head, and he realized he'd run into someone just as bad- Pike. All he had to do though, was make the tree line, because he saw Hermione trip in front of him. It was unfortunate, because Hermione was always so nice and so smart, but perhaps she wouldn't last more than a day. He needed to worry about himself.

He saw Hermione struggling for something in the ground, and he saw it. Damn, it was the hilt of a weapon! For just a slightest moment, he had a crashing fear that she was going to kill him for that direction and-

The axe sunk itself deep into his brain, and Wayne Hopkins didn't have another thought.

Hermione ran as fast as she could, dodging trees and stumbling over rocks. She wasn't sure if she heard anyone else following her, but she wasn't going to stick around and find out. In this moment, with her heart rate elevated and mind reeling from the death she just witnessed, she was weaponless. Even if she had to turn and fight, her mind wouldn't have been able to conjure what she had once read about hand-to-hand combat, or the wandless magic she'd spent so long on.

She passed a tiny river gurgling around, and thought about stopping there. But she saw bloodstains in the area, meaning someone else was already there, and also she reminded herself that this was for sure a stupid choice. People needed water above all to survive, so they would flock to rivers and lakes. Her and her friends were smart and talented enough not to need it.

She ran until she felt like she'd been running for more than an hour, and found a little clearing in the woods and just collapsed. She hadn't even thought about how her friends would find her. That, unfortunately, had been the last thing on her mind.

A stick cracking to he back made her swing around, snatching up a branch, as if that would be any fight against someone who was confident enough to come upon her.

"Merlin, Hermione." She heard Ernie cough, as the little out-sprouts of the branch flicked across his face, "That's a better weapon than you might think" He muttered, rubbing the side of his face where'd he'd been attacked by it tenderly.

"Thank Merlin." Hermione said, her shoulders drooping in relief, "I didn't think we'd find each other."

"Hannah and I went together. It was tough following you; if anyone chasing you didn't have a weapon, it wouldn't be worth it, the way you sprint."

"Where's Hannah?" Hermione asked, looking around.

"Here." Hannah said, coming forward gingerly and wincing as she put her foot down. Hermione noticed and began to open her mouth to ask, but she was already explaining, "Duke grabbed me. Had a knife. He twisted my ankle, but I managed to kick him in the face." She said proudly.

"Is it really bothersome?" Hermione asked.

"Only when I think about it." Hannah said, sighing.

"You got a bag too?" Ernie cut in, noting the mud-stained black backpack at her feet.

"Yeah! I got it from Wayne." She added, but neither made any comment about seeing him dead. She would re-tell it later, not now, though, "Ernie! Did you get rid of your coat?" She scolded.

"It's like ninety degrees, Hermione." He said, shrugging, "I don't think it will be missed."

"I told him he was an idiot." Hannah broke in, sticking her tongue out at him, "We might need it for later. Maybe they just gave us extra fabric? And we'll have to make a giant rope or something?" She offered up. Hermione thought that sounded silly, but didn't say so.

"Let's see what we have between us." Ernie said, his face growing red now that he had two girls chastising him, "Did anyone see Elizabeth anywhere?" He asked, and he knew they all had the same thoughts- two cannons went off. Maybe they didn't know either death.

"No." Hermione admitted guiltily. She wished she had been a little more observant, helped her. She was only thirteen, for Merlin sakes, and here they were- three adults- who didn't give her a thought until they weren't running for their lives. Yes, perhaps it was usual, but it didn't excuse the fact it made Hermione feel horrible!

Ernie grunted, a scowl twisting on his face.

"She might find us. She might turn up." Hannah said, twisting her hair nervously, giving a weak smile.

"Let's see what we have together." Hermione said hastily, diverting the topic from Elizabeth to good things, like what the collected. In the bag Hermione had stolen, there was a band of gauze, a sewing kit, rope, survival blanket, duct tape, bottle of iodine, a small knife (probably used for things other than killing, but in a pinch would work), a roll of crackers, a compass and some fire starters. Ernie's was larger, but also more easily seen. His contained a metal water bottle, a sleeping bag (which Hermione was incredibly envious of his catch), dried fruit, flashlight, micro tarp, wire, dried jerky, and some more bandages.

"That's huge- I can't imagine there's many of those types." Hermione said.

"I only saw three others." Ernie said, nodding, "Punched Pansy in the face to get this one."

"You did not! She would have killed you!" Hannah said, hitting him lightly on his shoulder.

"I'm just saying…she may be sporting a black eye." He said, grinning. Hermione wasn't sure if she bought his story either.

"Hermione! You're bleeding!"

Hermione had forgotten all about the knife that had cut her. She saw a gentle drip of blood on the forest floor, and cringed that it had slipped her mind. And now that Hannah mentioned it, it burned. She gingerly pushed apart the ragged hole that had been sliced into her clothes, and her fingers touched the wound. She recoiled at once, hissing in pain.

"Let us see it." Hannah insisted, and Hermione shrugged off her jacket. It had gone through her shirt as well, so abandoning modesty; Hermione took it off, leaving her in an undershirt.

"It's not deep." Hannah said, and Hermione let her friend run her fingers along the edge, "For sure nasty though. Here-," She began to reach for the gauze, but Hermione let out a gasp.

"No!" She protested, "We should save that for a really bad wound. This is just…an annoyance. See? It's already stopped bleeding." She insisted, and Hannah looked at it skeptically.

"Fine." She agreed after a long moment, "But we're still going to sanitize it. Don't want it to get infected, right? Ernie, there was a river back there. Can you fill the water bottle up?" She questioned.

"I have a better idea." Ernie said with a grin. He cleared his throat, took a ridiculous looking stance, and pointed a finger from his left hand into the bottle, "Auguamenti!" He said, and low and behold, a thin stream of water emptied into the bottle.

"Wandless spell casting! I forgot. We don't need streams at all." Hermione sighed in relief, for only those that could not cast wandless spells would be forced to go there, and Hermione had a feeling it wouldn't be the experienced ones, "Wait- does anyone know any healing spells that could fix this?" She asked, touching her knife wound gingerly.

"No." Hannah said, deflating, "Sorry." Hermione looked hopefully at Ernie. He held his hands.

"Nada. We're just going to have to heal our wounds the muggle way." He said, winking. Hermione didn't laugh.

Carefully, Hannah poured the water over her cut. Hermione winced, but held her tongue. It burned more when Hannah applied a very small amount- per Hermione's instance- of the iodine over the wound, coating it to keep it safe. Hannah tried to persuade her to just use one go around of the gauze to keep it in place, but Hermione shook her head fiercely. She sat on her coat, and felt something squish.

"My beaded bag!" She gaped, and her companions looked at her curiously, she motioned them forward. She, in hushed tones, explained about Madam Malkin and the Phoenix symbol. Both were shocked, but neither could comment. She, in the shadows of her friends, unloaded the bag, saying that they could fit everything into here- both backpacks and all, if they felt safe with her holding it, of course. Neither had an objection.

The bag mostly held food, which Hermione had never been so grateful for in her life. Another full thing of water, a box of granola bars, trail mix, and more jerky. It was, though, the final item that led Hermione's bones to freeze and a strangled cry make her way up her throat.

Harry's invisibility cloak.

She had been sure in Voldemort's raids this had been destroyed, and never did she think herself worthy to be the next owner of it. Hannah lightly touched it, inhaling a deep breath.

"Is that…" She asked in a low whisper. Hermione gave her a grave nod.

"We mustn't let the cameras see." Ernie said, shoving it back into her pouch, "It's clearly for last ditch moments." Hermione had to agree. They tried to continually normally after, but it was hard when all three knew Hermione- and by byproduct themselves- had friends in high, but dangerous, places.

The next order of business was to decide if they should go hunting or not. They did have food from their packs, but it wouldn't last more than a couple days. There were still too many people to go out hunting for berries and roots with only a measly knife to protect oneself, for even when Hermione attempted some wandless magic, it was extremely weak, and if they caught fish or a different type of meat, it would need to be cooked, which meant starting a fire. Which, of course, was a dead giveaway. A neon 'were over here' sign.

"I'd feel better if Elizabeth were here going out, so at least we can stay in pairs." Ernie said, rubbing his arms cautiously, "I think we can stick with what we have now."

They lay down the lightweight tarp against a boulder, so that when they sat, they looked out to the forest.

"First four or so hours down." Hannah said, "Forever to go."

Hermione took it upon herself to ration out their food, and they were soon munching along on the beef jerky with a handful of nuts to add flavor.

"So we don't know whose died?" Ernie asked.

"Wayne. Wayne Hopkins." Hermione said, and both Ernie and Hannah saddened. She momentarily forgot the pair was once housemates with Wayne, and his death would be more meaningful to them. She described his run and the axe to his head, the way his eyes just stared at her in the light, staring blindly into nothingness.

Her story quieted the threesome a great deal; the Hufflepuffs mourning a fallen fellow, and Hermione trying to vanish the look on his face, the blood rushing down his black hair and onto the grass, blue eyes empty and flat. Also, there wasn't much more to discuss. It wasn't like Ernie could turn casually and ask if they'd heard about this or that in the Wizarding World- read the section in the Daily Prophet about a cat that could play a piano or something, at least not anymore.

They did decide, as a group, that they were not going to purposely seek out people to kill. If it came down to it, and they had to, they would fight to survive, but they would all rather not participate in it the way Pansy did. She and her Slytherin army were probably storming the forest, coming upon unsuspecting people and slitting their throats. Or not, since no more cannons had been heard so far.

Hannah suggested that perhaps they should move farther away; find a better and more stable camp site for the remainder of the game. Maybe a cave or a place they could construct a log lean-to on. Ernie wanted to give Elizabeth more time to find them, and was less concerned about being found.

"We ran far, and we together have a good skill-set. I don't think we'll be hunted, not now."

Hermione offered that they take turn sleeping, even though it was only mid-day, for there wasn't much else to do. At least one person awake at all times, although if someone really wasn't tired, they didn't have to sleep right then, but everyone should take a turn. The sleeping bag was big enough for two people, or could be used as a blanket while they slept on the tarp. It wasn't comfortable, but it was better than nothing.

But even now the air was still sticky and warm, and a blanket wasn't even needed. Hermione, who now was feeling the effects of not sleeping the previous night, offered to take a night shift if she could nap now. Hannah said she would nap too, and Ernie- wide awake, was more than happy to take the first shift.

Hannah unzipped the sleeping bag and laid it out so they had some sort of comfort underneath them instead of just a thin layer beneath the ground and their bodies, and they took a backpack each, making it softer by bunching up the winter jackets on top.

And for what it was worth, even though they were in woods with a group of now twenty-two other children all out to get each other, Hermione fell into sleep with little trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to update in a little bit, but I got ahead of my schedual (I got some bad news today, and when that happens, I write things) so you all get this early! 
> 
> So much to think about, eh? How to do you like that Malkin is part of the Order? Or that I decided to include everyone's POV as they die (morbid, but eh...)? If you liked those parts and everything else, please make my day and review! I know there's a ton of you that read it, so even just a tiny review means the world to me!
> 
> In other story promoting news, I uploaded the 'M' rated scene as a separate story to my fanfiction Omphalos, it's called 'But I Mean These Words'. I also posted a Jelsa Modern AU with soul-mate symbols called 'Snowflake Symbols', , so be sure to give those a looksie if you like my writing.
> 
> Next up is the second day in the forest, and actually, we're going to get Pansy's POV too (Sorry, she's not dying, just a normal POV)


	10. Chapter 10

Someone was poking Hermione with a stick. It wasn't a offensive poking, not like someone was trying to stab her to death, but a friendly poking. Hermione registered this before she registered in the darkness of night it was Hannah, who was nudging her awake.

"Your shift." Hannah said, blinking. Hermione sat up, stretching, and saw Ernie snoring next to her. The temperature had dropped from the boiling air that had inhabited the sky the first day, and Hermione would call this weather spring like. It was not cold enough to need her thick jacket completely, but it was just a nice temperature, but accompanied by the musk of a coming rain fall.

"How long have I been asleep?" Hermione asked, trying to gauge the time.

"Bout twelve hours, it's probably just after one AM." Hannah said, shrugging, "But I could be wrong."

"I guess it doesn't matter." Hermione mumbled, getting up and cracking her knuckles, "Any trouble?" She asked, "Any more deaths?"

"I think you'd hear a cannon going off," Hannah said, rolling her eyes, "But no. Climbed a tree. Saw some smoke probably five miles to the east, the idiots. I don't know if even Pansy has started looking yet, because no one else has died. Other than that, it's been…" She paused, "Quiet."

"Good. I'll let you sleep now, then," Hermione said, and Hannah gave a soundless reply. She lay down on Hermione's jacket, and Hermione figured she could make due with the weather, granted it didn't become any colder.

It wasn't completely quiet; there was the rustle of a small animal in the bushes, a croak of a frog, the song of a cricket. The whole forest awoke at night in a way Hermione couldn't.

It was two hours into her shift when there was the first sign of something human. A gentle sway in the leaves and underbrush, like a person dragging their feet. Now, Hermione had battled and learned and seen many things, but even she got paranoid sometimes, especially in the dead of night in a death forest. The shuffling was then accompanied by a soft moaning, a sort that sent the hairs on the nape of her neck on edge. It sounded ghastly. Hermione knew ghosts existed, like the Bloody Baron, but she had yet to come across a resentful one.

Yet there had to be some types, didn't there? And Hermione would bet her money that all the children who had died in the pervious games would have a lot of unresolved reasons to haunt an area.

Oh, Merlin, what if it was Harry? What if he was a ghost internally slumbering in the arena, looking for his friends? What if he found Hermione?

She took the knife adjacent to her that Hannah had been using off the ground, as if a knife would work against a ghost, and stood from the log she sat on. Her eyes scanned the dark forest, but she couldn't see more than a foot or two in front of her.

The shuffling continued and Hermione felt her whole body begins to quiver.

"Whose there?" She called out into the dark, and gaining confidence, "Show yourself!"

A pale figure stumbled into the clearing. Hermione, without thinking lunged at it. The knife was raised above the figure, and it wasn't until she was upon her that she saw a familiar face.

"Elizabeth?" She asked, and the person, stained with blood, gave a sigh of relief.

"I found you all." She gasped, "Thank Merlin."

"Elizabeth, you're bleeding!" Hermione said, and used all her strength to summon a lumos charm at the tips of her fingers. Elizabeth's long blond hair was now a dirty brown-red color, and when Elizabeth ran her hands over her face, a dark fingerprint was left in its wake.

"It's not mine, don't worry." She assured, frowning, and opened her mouth to speak but Hermione cut her off.

"I'm going to wake the others." She said, "Stay there."

Ernie and Hannah were not exactly happy to be woken, but were much more willing to wake up when they heard that Elizabeth had been found, but coated in blood. Hannah squeaked in shock at her sight, and Ernie got the bottle of water, and at first poured a stream into her palms, intending for her to clean herself with it, but her first instinct was to drink it.

Hermione didn't even want to imagine the horrible copper flavor that would accompany it.

After that, Ernie just gave her the bottle so that the water, which she clearly needed, wouldn't be tainted. After drinking her fill, she began to wash her hands, and Hannah got started on her hair and skin.

"Whose blood is this?" Ernie asked, looking her up and down.

"Faye. Second cannon today." Elizabeth said, looking down, beginning to shake. For as confident as she often seemed, Hermione forgot that she was only thirteen years old.

"Why are you covered in her blood, though?" Hermione prompted, and offered her a beef stick. Elizabeth tore at it like a hungry wolf.

"I had gotten away safely with a knife when I saw it happen. I climbed a tall, leafy tree, intending to take my pick of weapons and things once people had cleared out. I watched the direction you all ran; sure I could find you again. I didn't see how the first person- Wayne- died, but I saw his body. I saw Faye's death, though."

"How did she die? Pansy?" Hannah guessed darkly. Elizabeth gave a slow shake of her head.

"You wouldn't believe it. Corner. He bludgeoned her to death with a rock. And after, Pansy clapped him on the back and he left with her and the rest of her gang." Elisabeth said angrily.

"Michael Corner is with Pansy?" Ernie exploded, "How the hell did this happen?"

"Every killer needs a grunt worker." Hermione muttered.

"I felt so bad for her. She was crying, and Corner was not merciful. It was probably really painful. I climbed down after everyone else, intending to get supplies, but I tripped over her body. I realized that the game makers had made a mistake, she was still alive, and they had fired too early. Hardly. I acted on instinct. I dragged her into the trees and tried to get her to breath again. But she didn't." Elizabeth sighed, frowning deeply.

"Don't take it so hard," Hannah crooned, "Few would have done that. Most would have left her. Another person they didn't have to worry about." She shrugged.

Elizabeth still seemed extremely upset over her failure, though. Hermione didn't know how to comfort her.

Luckily, Hannah knew exactly what to say.

"You did something extraordinary, Liz. You took the time- when you could have endangered yourself- to drag her away from where she died and tried to give her some peace, tried to save her. She died knowing there was one person out there that still cared about her living. Isn't that the best thing anyone in these games could want? To not feel abandoned?" Her voice grew deathly quiet. Elizabeth chewed on her words for a couple moments, then nodded.

"You're right."

"You should get some sleep," Hermione pushed, "You've been up all night!"

"No!" Elizabeth shook her head, "I'm still full of blood and I couldn't! Not after…after that!" She said.

"You'll need to sleep eventually." Hermione said.

"I will. Just…not now. Okay?" Elizabeth murmured.

"Well, I'll stay up too. It is my shift still anyway." She said, glancing back at Ernie and Hannah.

"No. I'm staying up too." Ernie said, glancing at Elizabeth.

"Why? It's stupid; you need to sleep-," Hermione began to point out, but Ernie shot her a dark look.

"I'm staying up too."

"Hannah?" Hermione groaned turning. Hannah gave her an apologetic smile.

"I'm awake too now. Besides…" She trailed off, sighing, "Wayne and I grew up close to each other. Both half bloods and everything. He asked me out back in second-year. We went to Hogsmead, during the summer." She said, her voice filling with tears. Ernie looked sympathetic, but Hermione was pretty sure she wasn't just crying over Wayne. She would put gallons on the guess it had to do with another certain Hufflepuff.

The sky grew suddenly light, and there was a small fanfare, and for about twenty seconds each, the faces of Wayne and Faye flashed upon the screen. The foursome watched intently, staring at their fallen. Hermione had only briefly known Faye, she was in her grade after all and she had been a Gryffindor for a little bit of time, and that was enough to make a deep and horrible feeling of loss grow and grow until it was unbearable.

Hell, this was a girl she hardly knew. How the heck was she going to cope if Ernie died? Or Elizabeth? She glanced at the small girl. Only three could come out alive. Elizabeth was muggleborn. And only thirteen.

Hermione felt horrible because she wasn't sure if she would let this girl win, if it came down to it, if it meant walking away forever. Sure, she had signed her life basically over once when Artemis was called, but was she selfless enough to do it again? The Hermione she once knew wouldn't have hesitated to yell 'yes', to protect this girl up until the day that it came down to it, and gladly let her win.

But…this Hermione was horrified to realize she didn't know how to answer that question. Because, heck, Hermione really didn't want to die. She shamefully stared at the ground, unable to even look at Elizabeth. She suddenly regretted traveling with more than one blood type in a group bigger than three. It only made her feel guilty.

"I'm surprised Susan lasted more than a day. Lots of people are probably losing their money right now." Ernie commented, sharpening the knives on a rock. It was a horrible thought, but Hermione couldn't help but agree with his sentiment. That's the moment Hermione realized perhaps she was turning into a bad person. Thinking of herself, laughing at others, wishing people died! When did this happen? How had it only been less than a day here, and already Hermione hated herself?

And, she wondered, glancing around furtively at her companions, if it took so little to change a person people thought was impenetrable to such ideas, could it change others?

Pansy growled in frustration.

Now, perhaps she wasn't a master at math or anything, but she was very certain that the pile of food gathered from all the hanging backpacks wouldn't last her group more than three days, even if they rationed it. Then again, that was a downfall of having such a large posy, the had to be feed. Or perhaps she should just use her power to make the rest hunt, while she ate the food the game makers provided? It was a tempting option.

Yet, even just herself, she knew it would be gone all too soon. After that she'd have to hunt or rely on the sponsorship she was sure to have received. But she didn't want to have to depend on others just yet; she could do this without them.

She tucked the food away into the biggest bag, shoving it far underneath a bush, taking back all the bags of nuts she found to the group sitting and waiting. They laughed and jibed with each other, being in the most elite group, without the fear someone would attack them.

Laugh now, Pansy thought with a savage grin, because none of you will survive.

They must have realized the odds already; more than three people, ergo, some would die. That was inevitable. What they didn't know of course is Pansy was dead serious when she said she was a lone victor or none at all- she wasn't going to let a single one of them out of here. Well, except one…a very certain person that was annoyingly not within her group.

She'd managed to convince all the Slytherins to her side, easily. Except Draco, which was most infuriating, seeing as he was the only one she saw herself leaving with. He was her only exception.

She had to win, she told herself, and make Draco and his whole family desperately try to chew back their words; their words that because she was half-blood, she would never be a suitable bride for Draco. But she loved him.

And she would, graciously, accept of course, after she won. How could they not want a victor to give them grandchildren? They would have no choice. Pansy would become the usual pureblood housewife at first; hold galas, wear expensive dresses, bear children, entertain the guests, keep the house and all other similar things. But Pansy was not a usual girl, so she would use her position and claw her way to the top, even if it meant one day, Lord Voldemort had to go.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Pansy, despite being half-blood, had not lost sight of his original mantra of the purest blood. Pansy wholeheartedly had agreed- muggleborns had no place in a wizarding society. It was truly unfortunate about Tracey and Pike; she often wondered if something had gotten lost, and they were a half-blood, like her? But because only one of her type was coming out, even if they were, it wouldn't have mattered.

Draco would see soon enough, she reasoned with herself, calming herself as she sat between Blaise and Pike. Draco would be back within a day, apologizing. He had to.

She looked around at the six people that looked at her hungrily. All the Slytherins besides her annoying future fiancée- Blaise, Pike, Tracey, and Daphne- plus two Ravenclaws that had seen the light and truth of her values. There was a reason why they were the second most acceptable house and smartest. These two knew who was on the winning side.

There was Corner, who as Pansy had found out in her fourth year, had a deliciously dark side to him. She'd kept tabs on him since then, and he was by far the most excited for the cause. He'd also strung along an admittedly young but promising muggleborn name Duke Oakly. Of course, Caligula would have been preferable- she'd heard stories of him, even though he was the second youngest tribute- but he had rebuked all of her offers.

Fine, she thought with a shrug, his death would be slow and painful.

The death toll was only at two, which was quite underwhelming. She hadn't even gotten a kill in herself, which was really frustrating. She had a lot of anger after Draco had insulted her this morning, saying he'd rather die than join her (but then again he'd always been dramatic) and she had hoped that perhaps she could just get rid of Granger or someone right off the bat.

Pike had killed a Hufflepuff- and who bothered with their names, anyway. Wasn't like they were worth anything in the school with an axe. Dreadfully predictable, a quick and easy death. She hoped he'd branch out.

Corner had been more creative and much more terrifying, and he'd also killed a girl that Pansy knew he had a thing for. If he was trying to prove his loyalty, he was doing a great job. Giving a feminine grin, she caught his eye.

"Great kill today," She gushed, "I didn't think you had it in you!"

"Yeah?" Corner asked, kicking back, shrugging, but Pansy saw a hint of a blush underneath his skin, "Nothing." He shrugging "Was nothing."

"Think fast." Pansy said, throwing him a bag, "You get first food, since you are the most proven so far."

"What about me?" Pike objected. Pansy sighed, throwing him the second bag.

"Your technique is sloppy, and your creative side could use some work." She critiqued, sticking up her nose. After that, she threw the treats out haphazardly, and she watched the faces as everyone savored the taste.

"Do we have any water?" Duke questioned, licking his lips to retain the salt.

"Well, that is something we have to find." Pansy admitted, "But I don't think we'll have to worry about anyone attacking us, so I'm not concerned yet." She said, and gave him a hard look, "Unless you're dying of thirst."

"Nope." Duke said, holding up his hands," Just pointing out a key to survival." He replied with a bit of a sarcastic tone. Pansy sighed; she'd let that one go by. His next side comment may cost him a finger. Extreme? Perhaps. But it showed everyone that Pansy wasn't just playing games here.

She gave a side-ways glance over her shoulder to the left, where the pitiful body of Wayne Hopkins still lies. She was frankly surprised no one had come and picked it up. She didn't know where the other body was- Faye's- but it wasn't really her concern. There was a gentle rustling from the bushes, and everyone tensed.

"Ah." Pansy said, nodding.

"What? What was it?" Duke demanded sharply, squinting. Daphne tilted her head.

"Don't you see it?" She questioned.

"See what?" Duke questioned again, rubbing his eyes and blinking.

"The thestrals." Blaise said evenly.

"The wh-," Duke began to question loudly, but Daphne clamped a hand over his mouth. No one was quite sure what was going on, or why it was here. It hardly seemed to notice the group of teenagers sitting in the circle in the clearing, instead trotting over to Wayne's body. It nudged the body, almost seemed to be mourning. Skillfully, the animal slipped the limp body onto it's back, jumped, and flew off into the sky.

"That's where they go." Pansy said to herself. Duke slapped a hand away.

"What the heck are you guys all talking about?" He asked, looking around at everyone, but realized he was the minority.

"A thestral. Once you see someone dead that meant something to you, you'll see them too." Tracey assured, the first intelligent thing Pansy had ever heard her say.

"I thought you just had to see someone die?" Pike asked, scratching his head.

"No, it has to mean something to you." Corner agreed with Tracey, "Even if it's pleasure." He said with a shrug, looking at Duke, "or relief. So maybe after your first kill, you'll see them."

Duke locked his jaw but said nothing.

"Angels of death, but they were always pretty to me." Daphne said, tapping her foot, looking at the sky, "I found a baby one in my backyard once. I was only eight."

"You saw death before you were even ten?" Pike sounded shocked.

"You were lucky to go to Durmstrang. My family, just because we were pureblood and didn't follow him the first time around, were punished. My brother was eighteen, and he spoke up against Voldemort." She recounted with a grim smile.

"Those things are creepy as hell. Thestrals." Corner said, adding his two cents in, "I don't care if they're gentle or whatever. I don't want that thing to touch me."

"Well, then you'd better hope you don't die, eh?" Blaise asked, meeting his gaze. Corner became quiet.

Yes, Pansy thought, don't say something that you can't promise to keep true. There was an itch deep in the bottom of her being, and she stood suddenly.

"Where are you going?" Tracey asked her, a strained tone to her voice.

"Hunting." Pansy said snappily.

"People or food?" Blaise asked, narrowing his eyes and beginning to stand, as others did. Pansy motioned for him to sit, and gave an emotionless chuckle.

"Does it matter?"

Luckily, no one answered. No one there thought Pansy couldn't handle herself alone.

Once in the forest, she broke into a running stride, until she was far from the sight of the clearing. There was a movement in the bushes; hardly perceptible, except for someone like Pansy. Quick as an arrow, she shot her foot out to catch the tail of a mouse just as it broke out of a patch to skitter across the open floor.

In that first day of training, half the Slytherins had come running to her, asking her how her 'wandless magic' training with McGonagall was, and they were all shocked to find that Pansy- the least suspecting person magical person in her youth, but one of the most brilliant that Voldemort had ever seen (as he'd told her father)- would not be tutored in such an advanced magic?

But Pansy knew. That damn McGonagall was purposely keeping it from her- she was afraid of what she would do with it if she was taught it and succeeded, which Pansy knew she would have. That's why getting rid of her former teacher would be the top of her to-do list when she became the victor.

But she'd gone back to her room, spewing, furious. She was being deprived of something she rightfully should have been taught! And she decided, gosh darnit, she could teach herself just as bloody well. It wasn't easy, but when one was so angry, so wiling…it was there. Inside of her. Clawing at her to be let out. And she'd begun with a curse, but found that it didn't work, which was strange, since she had really meant it. But Blaise had come to report that the three unforgivable curses were the most difficult to pull off, even Voldemort needed a wand for those.

So, she resigned that perhaps she did not have time to learn those before the games. But there were plenty of other ways to kill someone.

She looked down at the mouse, still frantically wiggling, so desperate it seemed it would loose his tail just to be let free. She figured she might as well start small; she had a very important package delivered to her the night before the games, just for a moment. A book of dark magic; and she hadn't tested it yet. She did know to use so much blackness did come with mental and physical costs. But Pansy was willing.

She forced her left hand out, and slowly brought her fingers into a fist, and she found she was fighting against something. For minuets she fought against the life force, pushing herself harder and harder. Her whole body shook and she felt sweat run down the back of her neck. Her legs wobbled and a couple of black dots spotted the edge of her vision. Just when she was going to give up, or more so take a break and try again later, the tension snapped and her fingers clenched into a fist.

She watched with triumph as the skin melted off the bones of her prey, leaving a clutter of steaming bones. Pansy stumbled back into the tree, slumping down and breathing as if she'd just run a mile, staring at the stark whiteness of the bones in front of her.

Something had filled her in those moments of the creature's death, a deep and sticky sickness that ran through every vein her in her body, and she smelled the most horrible smell she'd ever encountered, her body had trembled as if she was about to burst into fire on the spot, and she was left with a rotten taste that permeated every inch of her mouth. At this, Pansy grinned.

It all boiled down to anger, hate, revenge, the everlasting darkness and force of someone who was too quiet for too long. Dark, wandless magic was most certainly the purest form of magic there was. And now, she knew how to use it.

When Pansy gathered her strength half an hour later to walk back, no one batted an eye at her empty hands and lack of cannon sound. They just pretended as if she had never left.

Bright sunlight streamed into Hermione's face, jolting her awake. She was sitting half-upright against a tree, her neck at an awkward angle and tailbone killing her. Groggily, she blinked awake to see Elizabeth curled into one of the sleep bags, and Hannah sprawled out on the forest floor, fast asleep too. A momentary second of panic burst through her veins, until she noticed Ernie, sitting up and wildling with a pocket knife at a couple of sticks.

"I feel asleep." Hermione muttered sourly.

"You looked like you all need it." He shrugged.

"So do you, by the bags under your eyes." Hermione observed. He gave a thin smile.

"I guess. But to much to think about to keep me asleep last night." He replied, a undertone that Hermione didn't altogether understand, but was sure that his meaning was deeper than the surface. She decided not to press; everyone was allowed secrets in a place like this. She just hoped she could trust him.

"Food?" She asked.

"As in should we find some or have I already eaten or…?" Ernie trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

"All three?" Hermione shrugged, going over to the packs carefully by Elizabeth, being cautious not to wake her. The girl was out like a light, and although there was still the deep brown tint of blood, it seemed she'd mostly gotten it off. Her hair, though, was almost auburn now, and Hermione made a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. Poor girl.

"Not much breakfast like items." Hermione grumbled, "But I suppose we can't be picky."

"Let me try this," Ernie said with a wink, "Oh great sponsor gods pretty-please send us some muffins." He said to the sky. Hermione slapped his shoulder.

"We need to use the sponsors for when we're really in a pinch!" She chastised.

"I'm kidding!" He said, "Lighten up. You think they'd really spend their good money to send us a luxury food?" He said. Hermione gave a long sigh. It was impossible for him to expect her to be relaxed at a time like this.

A slightly cold wind blew in and Hermione was glad for her jacket. It felt like those perfect few days after a harsh winter, when the sky was just beginning to shine again, the world peeking out from underneath a cold ruler. It was spring-like, and ultimately too humid for her tastes. She expected rain within the day.

"Maybe we should try our skills at hunting?" Hermione suggested, "It's better to know what we need to improve right away then be stuck without food in a couple days."

"Worth a try. I'll wake Hannah and Elizabeth." He said.

"Just Hannah." Hermione stopped him before he could wake their youngest ally, "She deserves some rest. Hannah can watch camp and her while we're gone."

"But if they get ambushed…" He bean to argue, but Hermione gave a meaningful look at the young girl.

"She'd be too tired to fight anyway. They'll be okay. Apart from Pany's group, we're the strongest." She said, and this seemed to calm Ernie. Whether or not this was true, she wasn't sure. She knew together their scores were great, but it only took a couple smart combinations with the remaining tributes to make a better team. She didn't bring up her misgivings, of course.

Hannah, still groggy, gladly offered to stay back, stating that she hoped she would not have to kill anything yet; animals included. It was a nice thought, but a naive one, Hermione realized with a tinge. No one who made it to the top five made it there without at least ending one person's life, as indirectly as it was. Like two years ago, when a fifth-year Hufflepuff had accidentally moved a rock that let a poisonous snake out, and someone had come along a couple minuets later and gotten bitten. Had he been intending to use the snake on someone? No, he had just been foraging, and had been appalled at the outcome. Regardless, he was listed as the killer of that poor Gryffindor- someone who had transferred from Durmstrang, so Hermione hadn't known them well.

She wondered how she would live with the guilt of killing anyone? Even Pansy, she considered with a long sigh, because when she put herself in that situation…she wasn't sure she could pull the metaphorical trigger, cut the rope, on anyone's life, even if it cost her own.

In frustration, she threw her knife at a tree, incidentally catching the tale of a squirrel.

"Whoa." Ernie said, backing up, "Great aim."

"Wasn't aiming for it." She muttered sourly, watching the poor animal squirm to get free.

"In that case we'll be well fed all the time." He chuckled, "Ever tasted squirrel?" Hermione stared at the animal, frowning. Ernie sighed, and quickly cracked it's neck. Hermione flinched.

She really was in trouble; wasn't she?

Because here you couldn't just avada kedavra someone away, a flash of light and they're gone, no- everything was so much more brutal and personal- you would hear their neck cracks, feel their body chill, watch the light leave their eyes…and it sickened Hermione. But if she wanted to survive, she'd have to learn to get over things.

Get over it, she thought with a laugh as Ernie stringed the dead animal to a piece of rope around his waist, as they continued on. That was like asking her to forgive Voldemort for killing her best friend at his young age, making this horrible game. She would never get over it, she couldn't even let it go.

Just like how she already knew that if she killed anyone, she might never forgive herself, damn the nature of the game itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this and enjoy it but haven't reviewed, please make an authors day and leave a little comment :)
> 
> It takes you only like twenty seconds to make a person happy the whole day. Just pointing that out ;)
> 
> OTHER THINGS UPDATED IN THE WORLD OF FROSTY
> 
> 1) Omphalos, chapter 25 (Back from hiatus)
> 
> 2) Jelsa one-shot, modern Au 'Snowflake Signs'
> 
> Also, whose still alive
> 
> Gryffindor:   
> Ron  
> Seamus  
> Colin  
> Lavender  
> Hermione
> 
> Ravenclaw:  
> Caligula  
> Michael  
> Duke  
> Luna  
> Mandy  
> Elizabeth
> 
> Hufflepuff  
> Ernie  
> Justin  
> Susan  
> Hannah  
> Leanne
> 
> Slytherin  
> Draco  
> Blaise  
> Pike  
> Daphne  
> Pansy  
> Tracey


	11. Chapter 11

Draco knew that Pansy was looking for him. Not to kill him, Merlin no, but something much worse. She was somehow sure that the two of them would win and she would marry him after.

How revolting.

And then there was Blaise! Draco was hurt- no; he was bloody well offended that his supposed 'best friend' since early childhood had decided to join that monster's coven! All to chase a girl, his off on again, hot cold sometimes girl, Daphne. And if Daphne died, he had the idiotic idea that he could somehow make Pansy fall for him after.

Pfft, the only way Pansy would love him were to be if he slit his own throat.

It was so stupid. If Blaise won, he could have any darn girl he pleased. They'd swarm him! He'd have a thousand fathers shoving their unwed daughters at him, begging him to be the one who marries 'em.

Draco angrily chopped down the heavy vines around him. He'd been the only one, as far as he could tell, to run this direction. If he had to go alone, he'd go the farthest alone he could get. He would go to the edge of the arena and camp out there.

Despite what many might think, just because he was Slytherin, did not mean by any means that he wanted to kill someone. Quite the opposite, actually, considering before all this, he'd signed all his papers to study to be a healer. Killing someone would pretty much go against everything he promised in the oath he wouldn't do.

He was quite sure he had this advantage above anyone. He'd been to a couple crash-course sessions on the weekends and had already learned common healings and what to do in emergencies, sometimes the procedures requiring little to no spell work. His best skill might not be the ability to hide, but the ability to make himself survive. He wasn't queasy at all- if it came to having to sew up his own stomach, he'd do it. Draco didn't shy away from anything.

He'd been walking all night. Maybe it was just his imagination but it had grown much colder. He hadn't been idiotic to throw away his jacket, but balled it up and pushed into his pack, and he didn't really want to get it out, but the chill was creeping up his arms.

He'd expected the chill to come at night, as it often did, but during the day? He had to attribute this to the game makers, they were messing with something. He'd eaten little and mostly focused on keeping himself hydrated. When he found a good shelter, he'd set up camp. Soon, Draco came to a cliff that slid into an overhang of a even ground. Draco scrambled down, and backed up, picturing the proper workings it would need to be perfect, but it was a good enough shelter. Untangling the ropes and vine's he'd been collecting all the while, he set his bag down, set up a simple wandless alert system, and got to work.

TGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGG

Hermione continued into the forest, forcing herself to kill a couple more animals. If she could start here, she might be able to not hesitate when it came to the real thing. It wasn't that she was looking to desensitize herself to killing anyone, it was that in a moment of a fight, that one second of pause could be the end of everything…and Hermione wasn't going to let that happen.

She had split off from Ernie a bit back, but she could still hear his quiet footsteps, so that if either of them were attacked, they'd have time to call out. If they didn't have time to call out, then having another person there wouldn't help anyway.

She, in addition to her squirrel, had collected two birds (and found one of them with a nest of eggs, and figured this would be good if they could heat up a flat rock high enough to fry them) and a rabbit. The biggest animal she'd seen so far was a turkey, but she missed and it squawked, scurrying away. That had been the most frustrating; that turkey could have fed them all for at least a day or two!

Hermione hadn't noticed she'd diverged so much she couldn't hear Ernie anymore, until she realized the soft crunching was absent. Perking her ears, she strained to hear anything, but realized with a deep scowl that she could not hear a single thing. She spun back around to re-trace her steps, hoping Ernie had noticed her absence, when her foot caught on some uneasy ground and Hermione went scrabbling down a well-hidden ravine ledge. It wasn't a far fall, but it was unexpected and had a couple pokey branches.

Hermione cursed herself for being so unobservant; wincing as she glances around, for her tumble through the branches had created quite a commotion. After a minuet of silence, she breathed a sigh of relief that no one had come running to find her. She doubted Ernie could have heard, so if anyone else came, it probably was going to be someone that now considered her an enemy.

Gingerly, Hermione picked herself up off the ground, patting around for any place that she might have hurt herself. There were a couple thin scratches where tree-branches had laughed out, but it wasn't bleeding more than a slight bubble and therefore of little concern. Where she'd landed on her tailbone was already beginning to feel sore, though, which she twisted her face into a frown at the thought of. It wasn't terribly detrimental, but an awkward and very uncomfortable place to be sore, as most of the nights was spent on the bumpy or hard floor of the forest. Her hair was filled with little branches, which she did her best to comb out, and the only wound that she didn't brush off was a cut on her knee where it had presumably sliced across a rock. It was creating a darker puddle on her clothing where it bled through the cut and into the fabric.

Yanking her clothing up, she determined it wasn't deep enough that it would become a constant problem, but at the moment, Hermione had a deep worry about it becoming infected. That rock probably had not been rubbed with sanitizer before the game started.

Hermione titled her head, and to her south heard the tiny trickle of a stream. She didn't want to give the effort to summon water, as she was already feeling tired and sore from her fall and the bleeding was not helping, and she found a long stick and hobbled a short distance to a tiny creek that cut through the area.

It was well guarded and shady, and as far as Hermione could see up and down both ways, there was no one. She knew she had to be careful, for someone could jump out at any moment, as water sources were vital to survival, and people naturally flocked to them. She hoped they all realized it was the first place Pansy would look when she went on a killing spree, and that most would be smart enough to stay away. Of course the idiots that would go would only be killed sooner, leaving less people for Hermione to have to potentially kill, but she still was unsettled by the thought.

She sat on the bank and lowered herself into the water. The coldness was electrifying and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the change in temperature, but Hermione ignored it as it slowly numbed the area and washed away the blood. Reaching a hand down, she wiped away the grit and dirt around the area, softly massaging the places around the wound to alleviate the sting. In a couple moments, the feelings faded and the wound looked much better now that it had a chance to wash out.

While it was a nice feeling to get the sweat and general muck of her body, she knew she didn't have the luxury to wash her entire body. She tried to wash out as much of the blood around the knee area as she could, but it was rather a moot point as the blood had already settled. She didn't have anything to tie her wound closed with, no fabric to keep it from bleeding, and settled with the thought she'd make it back to camp quickly.

She stood, a bit uneasy, and started to head back, but took what Hermione in her head saw as a short cut.

She had just passed into a little clearing when she felt herself trip again. She looked back, expecting to see a vine that had created a foot-place or a tree trunk, but was shocked to see a person's figure. She hadn't heard the cannons go off and they were to far from the original clearing for it to still be a dead body, so Hermione figured they weren't dead.

Indeed, the person who had been sheltering in part of a hollowed felled trunk glanced up drowsily, waking from a nap. When the person spotted Hermione, her eyes went wide with terror, and she blinked awake immediately, scrambling back.

"Susan!" Hermione cried, surprised to find her alone. She'd been close with Lavender, Hermione had seen the pair talking through the game often, so she'd though. There didn't seem to be any presence of another person here, and it rather pained Hermione to see her alone.

"D…don't make it long." Susan stuttered, her hands bracing against the trunk.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, getting up and brushing herself off.

"When you kill me." Susan whispered softly, and she lowered and exposed her neck, as if resigned to the fact. Hermione felt sick to her stomach. She wasn't even going to run?

"I'm not going to kill you." Hermione whispered, her throat dry, "Why would I do that?"

"You're…not?" Susan asked, her eyes knitting together in confusion. Hermione shook her head. She was about to say something else when Susan pushed herself up and ran the other direction.

"Susan wait!" Hermione called after her, but an arrow of pain shot through her knee, and she watched the girl running in the other direction. Did Susan think she was lying? Had Hermione really become so distrustful? Hermione didn't know.

Hermione noticed Susan's jacket and a Hufflepuff blanket- Susan's carry in, evidently- left behind. A worse person would take them both, but Hermione's eyes softened. She saw no food anywhere, and no weapons to kill anything. Feeling generous, Hermione left one of the birds on her jacket. She figured Susan would be back for it, and while she'd been trying to get away, hadn't realized she'd left either of them.

When Hermione returned to the camp, Ernie gave a sigh of relief.

"Thank Merlin! I thought something had happened." He said.

"There wasn't a cannon." Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, but someone could be torturing you somewhere." Ernie said.

"My gosh, Hermione," Hannah said, looking up, "Did you have a wrestling match with Mother Earth?"

"Slipped down a ravine." Hermione winced, and pulled up her pants leg, "Do we have something for this we can spare?" She questioned. Ernie gave a teasing click of he tongue.

"I don't know Hermione." He said, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes, "We don't have room to spare for clumsy people."

Hannah laughed, "if that was the truth, you wouldn't even be talking to me." Which was the truth; Hermione had never met a more accident-prone person in her life. Which, now that she pointed it out, was truly the worst quality someone could posse in these games.

"So what did you bring for food?" Elizabeth asked, looking up. Hermione held up the squirrel, rabbit, and bird. She gave a tiny gasp- she'd forgotten all about the eggs! Oh, how she hoped they weren't broken, that would not only be a waste of food, but it would coat the inside of her bag terribly and she'd never clean everything off. She gave a sigh of relief as she unwrapped them…somehow; they'd all made it out okay, with only a few cracks.

But because of these cracks, it was a choice made in union they would eat those first, so that they didn't spoil. Having fried eggs almost made it feel homey, as she remembered poking her head just above the height of the countertop to see the eggs on the frying pan sizzling away.

It took them a couple tries to find a rock and a spell that would be able to be used to their needs, but soon they had a good-looking meal in front of them.

"I found Susan." Hermione said conversationally as they ate. Both Ernie and Hannah paused mid-bite and stared at her.

"Is she okay? Was she dead? Arg, stupid question, no cannon." Hannah reminded herself, "Was she alone?"

"I think she was okay." Hermione frowned, trying to think back to any tells that meant she wasn't, but couldn't find any, "Alone, yes."

Ernie and Hannah exchanged sour grimaces. "I thought for sure she'd pair off with Lavender, or maybe Wayne." Ernie said in a low tone, and then realized with a shocked look why Wayne would not exactly be the best partner "Oh, well, yeah. Never mind."

"I feel bad…" Hannah murmured quietly, glancing back up. The pair of Hufflepuffs seemed to share a conversation between their glances, one neither Hermione nor Elizabeth was partial to. The remaining girls frowned at each other, and although Hermione felt bad for Susan too…she didn't like where these looks were headed.

"Hufflepuffs stay together." Hannah whispered passionately, "We haven't done the best job of that. If we can, we should."

"No." Elizabeth said, shaking her head, "There are four of us already. That's a lot." Elizabeth pointed out, "We cannot risk bringing someone else in. Especially someone so lowly ranked."

"It's a house thing." Ernie said, scratching the back of his neck, "Loyalty. I mean, I can try to ignore it but it's hard." He admitted, "I maybe don't want to as much."

Hermione locked her jaw, poking at the remainder of her eggs, suddenly not hungry. How, on one hand, could she preach and pretend like she wanted this to not be the games they were and all that, but on the other feel queasy when such additions were being made? Would she care if Ron joined her? No, she might even feel elated. But Susan…Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"She might not even be where I found her, not now." Hermione grumbled, "She ran off when she realized I wasn't there to kill her." She said.

"Oh." Hannah deflated a bit, "Maybe she'll be there tomorrow?" She asked hopefully.

"We can check tomorrow." Hermione agreed, feeling a bit relieved, as she had more time to deal with the fact that Susan, who was basically almost a deadweight would-

No, that was mean. She should be glad that Susan joined them. Perhaps there was some trait that had gone unnoticed by everyone that would be useful here. And it was one more classmate, one more friend, Hermione would get to spend more time with. How could that be a bad thing, she asked herself.

When they finished, they realized that now they had little to do. Ernie gave a grin, as if he'd been waiting all day for this moment. He dug around in the pocket of his pants.

"Anyone up for a game of exploding snap?" He asked.

"What are you talking about-," Hannah began to ask, but then hit herself on the forehead, "Merlin, don't tell me the one item you brought into these games was a card game?" She cried.

"Actually, multiple games." He corrected, pulling out a shrunken deck of cards and licking his lips in concentration as he re-sized them, "I realized that in watching previous games, there must have been a whole lot of down time of doing absolutely nothing. I for one am not going to sit bored." He declared.

"But snap needs wands." Elizabeth reminded him, "And as you can see, we have none."

"Ah, but we all know wandless magic." He replied, "Should make it more interesting."

"Great. It's like a camping trip. With a bunch of animals actively trying to kill us everywhere." Hermione said sarcastically. Ernie was already shuffling the deck, and responded without looking at her.

"You got it!"

The three girls looked at each other. Hannah was still shaking her head, Elizabeth looked a mix between confused and concerned, and Hermione wasn't really sure what she thought of it. As the moments ticked by, Hermione saw that there really was not much she could do.

"Are you going to join me? Can't play by myself!" Ernie said from the ground. Hannah sat first, then Elizabeth, and finally- after a long while of contemplation-Hermione.

Secretly, Hermione was glad there were such distractions. For if they were on defense instead of offence, Ernie was correct. There really wasn't much at all anyone could do. On one hand, if they were a less confident team at times, perhaps they'd be trying to disguise themselves or dig and or create a shelter capable of hiding them away and withstanding attacks. But Hermione was sure that at nearly any intrusion she could at least give everyone time to escape and hurt those ones that tried to kill them.

True, she had problems with killing people. But that didn't mean she wasn't afraid to break a few bones or make them bleed a bit.

The game wore on for a long time, and when that had sucked the fun out of itself, Ernie had a regular deck of cards that didn't explode to continue to satisfy them. As the day rolled around, soon, even that became weary. It was okay, though, because it was getting dark enough to worry about their surroundings. Watch times were dolled out and the bed sheets were arranged. Water was cast from Ernie's fingertips into the tin bucket, and gulped greedily. A light dinner was eaten to keep stomachs from growling, and then, it was night all too soon for Hermione's liking.

Hannah was the first watch, but Hermione wasn't much tired, unlike Ernie and Elizabeth who were both asleep by the time their heads hit the pillows. Hermione had tried to sleep, but found the continual sounds of the night much too annoying to let her sleep. Groaning, she got up to go and talk to Hannah.

She found Hannah sniffling on a tree branch.

"Hannah, are you okay?" Hermione asked, and Hannah jumped, obviously expecting her to be asleep.

"Yeah," She tried to say bravely, but Hermione gave her a look of disbelief, and her façade fell from her face, "I'm just, well, a little down." Hannah murmured sullenly.

"Oh." Hermione realized sitting next to her, "Do you miss-,"

"My parents? Of course, yeah." Hannah jumped in, treading over her words, confusing Hermione. She had been about to say Cedric, which of course Hannah probably knew that so why-

Hannah grabbed her for a hug, which on the outside looked to be comforting, but she leaned in to whisper, "Not here. I just don't want anyone to know. If I die…But Cedric sent me a trick, a spell to see if there's camera's around. If the air shimmers blue, there's someone watching."

She hugged Hermione for a moment more that seemed appropriate and drew back. She let out a little cry, but underneath it, Hermione heard the spell, and saw her right hand raised slightly. Hannah's eyes looked up and Hermione followed slowly, and saw a glimmering blue trail like fairy-dust in the sky.

"I know, I know." Hermione said, grateful for learning this spell. She was quite aware that she'd be watched at nearly every moment, yet it was mostly in the back of her mind. She didn't think that with every move she made, people back in London and around the world saw and commented. It was just unhealthy to think like that, and made someone loose sight of the true purpose. On one hand, who cared what the public thought of her in these games that she was so rudely forced into? On the other hand, there were things Hermione would rather the world- especially her parents- not see. She didn't want her parents to have to watch Hermione maybe kill someone…that would shatter her parents. She hoped to keep them as well as she could, even thought it was slightly impossible thought.

TGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGGTGG

Ron's dreams took him back to his third year at Hogwarts, before everything went horrible. Before it all ended and hell began. Back when things were, well, except for the current whispered mentions of Voldemort, almost good.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, startling Hermione, "Where's Harry." He must have looked frantic. He was pale, he was shaking, and he was terrified. Hermione, who had lost track of time in the common room and read some book all night, jumped at his tone.

"Well, I'm not the one sleeping in the same room as him." She said, frowning and tucking a bookmark into the page, "Why?"

"He must have snuck out last night! You were here all night, you had to have seen him." He pressed frantically, searching around as if Harry had left a breadcrumb trail.

"Unless he had his cloak, then no…I wouldn't have. The only person I saw was Percy come through. He looked flustered, but I mean, Percy always looks flustered." She said, "Ron, I don't know if this is as big of a problem as you think it is. Harry probably just wanted time to think alone." She said, coming over and rubbing his shoulder.

"You don't understand. Harry was acting really weird last night." Ron said, clenching his fists.

"Funny?" Ron could almost see Hermione's stomach drop, "What do you mean, 'funny'?" She demanded sharply.

"He was freaking out about you-know-who. He kept saying he was the key, that he had to do something. I thought he was just joking or something! I didn't think he was serious, not totally, or that he'd do something-,"

"You think he did something tonight?" Hermione's eyes widened, "Oh, no!"

The common room was beginning to fill and Fred and George came down, looking highly confused.

"Aye, any of you two seen Oliver or Harry? We're supposed to practice for Quidditch, and Oliver always comes and wakes us up at ungodly hours." Fred asked.

"And now that you say, Lee hasn't slept in his bed either." The twins exchanged similar frowns.

"Not good."

"We were just talking about Harry not being in his bed either. And, well…" Hermione bit her lip, glancing uneasily at Ron, "We think he did something stupid."

"Let's fine Percy. He's a right pain in the ass, but he's perfect for times like this." George suggested.

"Hermione saw Percy leave at around 1 AM." Ron said, shaking his head, "I don't know if he can help."

"Maybe he's with Dumbledore already." Hermione offered up, "And maybe this is just a big misunderstanding!"

"And maybe Snape washes his hair daily." Fred scoffed. As more people came, more confused questions began to bounce around about upperclassmen that weren't in the beds. Most of them the bravest and most foolish or eldest, seemingly.

"We need to talk to someone." Hermione finally decided, pushing herself off the chair and going to the door, "Are you coming?" She asked, turning around.

The halls were filled with loud and confused questions. Seemingly, the missing Gryffindors weren't the only things to be concerned about. The more they heard, the more Ron's blood ran cold. An attack gone wrong, Voldemort running amuck, the Ministry was attacked-

"What are you four doing? Didn't you hear the announcement?" McGonagall snapped behind them, coming from behind a corner.

"We're looking for Dumbledore! Harry's missing!" Hermione cried.

"Oliver too, with Lee." The twins added.

"And Percy, otherwise I'm sure we would have heard." Ron finished. McGonagall's lips pursed into a thin line, and she looked down at the ground.

"It would be best to go back to your common rooms." She said with a deep and saddened sigh, "And be ready."

Ron couldn't phantom what that meant, and was about to argue for Harry's sake when he saw the broken look in McGonagall's eyes. This stopped him in his tracks.

The Gryffindor common room was heavily crowded and filled with people yelling questions. Ron, Hermione, and the twins sat in the front, looking at each other with unease, silent. It was an abrupt announcement, around lunch, that all students were to quietly make their way to the Great Hall.

And there Harry was- on his knees, a Death Eater pointing a wand at his head. About twelve others sat in identical positions, of them bleeding heavily.

"Harry!" Hermione all but cried out, but Fred reached forward and slapped a hand over her lips to keep her from drawing attention to herself.

"Shh…shh…" George added, dragging her over where the Gryffindors sat, "Oh, Merlin," He whispered, "Percy's up there."

"And Charlie…" Ron added, like someone punched him in the gut.

"Where…oh, god!" Fred's eyes widened at the state of one of their older brothers, his face so blood-filled and cut up it was hardly recognizable. He squirmed forward to see his siblings, frowning, and a Death Eater slapped him back into position. He cussed in their direction, spitting out excess blood from his lips.

"There's Lee and Oliver…" Ron added weakly. There were others that he recognized, some that had finished school already. In fact, Harry was by far the youngest and his tiny, thin body seemed so much more fragile in comparison.

He looked around and saw all the teachers being held by knives and wands too.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Hermione whispered painfully, "He..he can't be…"

"I don't know." Ron frowned, "I don't see him."

He was probably biding his time, Ron figured. In a moment he'd swoop through the windows and save everyone. He had to. He couldn't just let Voldemort win! This didn't happen! The good guys always won. That's how it was supposed to be!

Ron felt bile rising in his throat every moment that passed that the knives were pressed more to a throat, the wands were driven further into the back of the head of a brother or a friend.

There was a rustle of fabric, and Ron's heard lifted as he saw the telltale gleam of a specific Dumbledore robe. He forced all his anger down when he realized that it was a tall and pale man wearing it instead. The man was bald, and his face was almost see-through, all the veins bright against alabaster skin. His nose was inverted, and his eyes gleamed.

"Whose-," Hermione began to ask, but Harry suddenly was thrown on the ground by an unknown force, grabbing at his forehead.

"Oh no." Ron's eyes widened in realization. There was barking and someone grabbed Harry up by the back of his shirt, roughly forcing him into his position, silencing him as Lord Voldemort strode up to the stage.

"Well, well look at all of you. So innocent so confused." He smiled as if he was apologetic, "Look before are your friends and maybe even family. Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix misguided them. They were told that they could not fail, that they could defeat me tonight." He said, and looked back, "Where is your precious Dumbledore now to take your fall?"

The silence was deafening. The robes he wore yelled the answer. He felt Hermione's shoulders quiver beside his, and he turned to see silent tears trekking down her face.

"You have been overtaken. I am stronger. And those that defy should be punished. You don't want to see this? Too bad, you should have been quicker to notice your classmate's intents." He said, and turned raised his hand. He was about to give the order when his dark glare scanned the room, and then, he got a twisted smile.

He made a motion and all the Death Eaters lowered their wands, looking unsure, but did so anyway. All the people on stage looked at each other with lidded gazes, and Voldemoret paced at their feet.

"I am a forgiving man, and I wish this to be known to. You were so quick to be ready to kill me, to kill members of society that follow me…will you be as ready to kill each other? Instead of killing you all now and having it done quick, you all will compete against each other, killing each other off until there is one left. That singular one will have his or her crimes expunged, forgiveness given, and riches received. And you all with watch," He turned to the students, "To remember what you failed to do to me." He said.

"That's bullocks! We'll never do that!" Charlie cried, struggling to his feet, but he was quickly beaten back down.

Voldemort laughed, but it was harsh and lifeless. "On the contrary, I quite think you will."

The dream dissolved and Ron felt something rubbing against his foot. He frowned, slowly fading out of his slumber.

"Colin, stop." He grumbled, and when it continued, he gave an exaggerated mutter, "Really, Colin, you'd better knock that out right now!"

The rubbing was more continued, and Ron angrily woke up to tell off his friend.

Not as far away as either camp knew, Hermione was still sitting with Hannah talking quietly when an ear-splitting scream pierced the silence.

Ernie jolted awake.

"Blimey, was that…?" He trailed off, frowning in confusion.

"Ron." Hermione jumped up, as she could recognize his scream anywhere, and shivering, turned to her teammates, "And there's only one thing in the world that makes Ron scream like that."

Her team was silent with confusion, and Hermione grabbed her largest knife she could, looking around the dark forest with careful glances, "Spiders."


	12. Chapter 12

"Spiders?" Hannah squeaked, "Oh…oh no." She whispered.

"Huddle up." Hermione commanded immediately, and the four grouped together, tightly packed, "Acromantula. What do you all know?" She asked.

"Large, scary as shit spiders. Would rather eat you then make friends with you." Ernie supplied.

"Erm, when starved, led to act monstrous. When they're well-fed they're quite pleasant actually." Elizabeth broke in.

"You sound like Hagrid," Hannah muttered.

"Well, Hagrid told me that!"

Hermione snapped her fingers, drawing the attention back to the middle of the group.

"Guys!"

"Right!" Hannah winced, "Uh…oh…oh! Scared of basilisks…only known weakness?" She finished, biting her lip hard.

"Oh geeze, let me just reach into my backpack and pull out a basilisk." Ernie scoffed, "Oh wait, all out."

"Well, I think a basilisk would not help our situation, but rather hinder it. Sure we get rid of spiders, but then we have a gigantic snake on our hands." Hermione said, "All jokes aside, I do know a spell to ward them off."

"Thank Merlin." Ernie breathed a sigh of relief, "Mother always told me falling asleep in Defense Against the Dark Arts would be the death of me, never believed her."

"It's not Defense taught; Harry…" Hermione swallowed thickly, forcing her tears back, "Harry taught me it. Now listen closely- Arania Exumai." She said, "With a wand, it wards off about two or three. Without…we might have a better chance running."

"Would fire hinder them?" Ernie asked.

"Possibly. I mean, anything that could harm them would. That spell specifically attaches and throws them off, but if you have any wounding spells, then by Merlin a time like now would be to use it." Hermione said. Elizabeth gave a cough.

"What if this is all useless? What if it's littly itty-bitty spiders Ron was screaming about?" She asked, making a small circle with her hands.

"Doubtful." Ernie shook his head, "That wouldn't be anything exciting to see on the screen. No our wonderful viewers want to see the blood, death, and gore." He paused, ducking out of the circle to wave up to the sky, "Hi mom!"

"Ernie!" Hannah hissed, tugging him back down, and turned to Hermione, "Plan?" She questioned, biting her lip. Hermione was shocked to see Elizabeth and Ernie turn to her to see her response too, to see what the great Hermione Granger had up her sleeve. Honestly; not much of one.

She closed her eyes. She wished desperately she hadn't been petrified during the time that Ron and Harry visited Arogog in the forest. Sure spiders might have almost eaten her then too, but at least she'd know what Harry and Ron did to escape. But then again, scratch that- it involved a Ford Angela and she was pretty darn sure one of those wasn't going to come crashing down from the sky. Her mind went blank and her lips went dry. She opened her eyes, shielding her eyes, and straining to hear crashing through the forest.

"The screams came from that way." She said pointing in front of her, "So if we run that way, it's a fifty/fifty chance that we'll run into them. I say, safest, run behind us. With any luck, they only spurred from one spot." She said, starting to furiously pack up camp.

"But if we stay and fight them, won't we get more sponsors?" Elizabeth asked.

"If we stay and attempt to fight them," Ernie agreed with Hermione, "We'll be dead. This game has a lot of times for heroics, but this isn't one of them." He said, beginning to roll up the sleeping bags, "Well come on you two!" He added loudly to Hannah and Elizabeth who just sat staring.

"Right! Sorry, just freaked out." Hannah said, rubbing her hair with her fingers, and breathing heavily, "Does the air seem thin to you here?" She asked, and Hermione jumped up.

"Hannah. Calm down. You need to calm down." She said, grabbing her friend's shoulders, "Don't let us lose you, c'mon. This is not the time for a mental breakdown."

"I'm scared." Hannah whispered, "So scared."

"I am too." Hermione admitted softly, "But that doesn't mean we lay down and accept death, right?" She asked and when Hannah only shivered, she shook her, "No! Of course not!"

"Guys," Ernie snapped, but Hermione was too engrossed to hear it, "Guys!"" He screamed louder, and Elizabeth began too.

"Gu-fuck, ARANIA EXUMAI!" Ernie yelled and there was a flash of bright light. Hermione and Hannah whipped their heads around to see a gigantic spider scuttling back from where it started, "We have to run. Now."

No one needed to be told twice. The group took off running through the forest in the other direction, dodging trees and rocks and weaving amongst the foliage. Hermione continuously glanced back at Elizabeth to make sure she hadn't fallen behind, but found every time she looked the young girl was keeping up better than anyone could have expected. She saw a movement on the side of her face and turned to face what wasn't there just as one sprang out at her from the bushes.

Hermione dove to the side just as the long sharp pinchers hit the ground where she'd been moments before. She rolled again, kicking her legs out and feeling a satisfying warmth come over her when the spider cried in pain and one of it's legs crumbled. Taking this advantage, she shot her hand out and yelled the defense spell with everything she could muster, and then turn and ran. She had fallen behind but hoped the rest of her team hadn't run into such problems either.

She saw a flash of ginger up a head and heard someone continually swearing, "Fuck, damn, Merlin, fuck-," As they danced out of the way of a spider's legs. Hermione didn't even think what she was doing as she flew into the clearing, shouting a spell at the spider that made it spin in fear.

"Merlin!" Ron gaped, "Hermione! Oh, you have no idea how happy I am to see you! I couldn't remember anything!" He said.

"That's great Ron that you're glad," Hermione said, grabbing a knife from her bag just in case, "But now is really not the time to sit and catch up."

Ron nodded, glancing around warily.

"Let's go. The rest of my group is somewhere…We separated when our camp was attacked."

"Mine too. But less talk, more run." Hermione advised, grabbing his hand and taking him through the forest. They found themselves heading into a darker part of the trees, where they were so thick it was almost like night had descended upon them.

"Hermione!" She heard Hannah hollering from somewhere far away, "Hermione where are you?"

"This way." Hermione told Ron, letting go of hand, "I'm coming! I'm-,"

A spider knocked into her, pushing her to the ground and knocking the wind out of her. Her knife skid across the forest floor, out of her reach. The lack of oxygen caused her eyes to imagine black dots and she gasped for breath as she was pushed down.

She only had time to glance up and think it was the end, maybe, if she couldn't find a way out of this. She kicked her legs up, trying to harm the beast like before, but it only made it more irate. All of a sudden, the light died from it's eyes, and it crumpled to the ground. Her eyes looked up to see Ron on top of it's back, crushing her knife far down into the head.

"Fuck you, too." He grumbled, pulling the knife out, wiping the spider guts on the ground, "Payback, I suppose." He admitted handing it to her sheepishly.

"Oh! You killed one!" Elizabeth squeaked as she burst through the forest, "Wow…"

"I thought I was going to die." Hermione admitted, her eyes glued to the monster on the ground, "Slowly…painfully…"

"We need to keep going, Hermione." Ernie said, "Oh…Ron." He noticed him, "The colony is still moving forward. You've killed one, we've discouraged a couple others but I don't know think that's enough."

"Okay." Hermione agreed, furrowing her brow, "Let's keep running."

Ernie was right, because they had hardly moved a couple feet from the fallen spider when Hermione turned to see the glimmering eyes of what seemed like millions in the trees.

"Awe…come on!" Ron cried, grabbing his hair in desperation. Sweat gathered on his brow, and Hermione saw his heart racing a million beats.

"Time to go." Hannah whispered, the first to dart the opposite direction.

"Right behind you." Ron agreed, flashing past the group, and the rest were not soon behind. Hermione felt her sides ache and burn, but she kept pushing herself forward. Ron surpassed Hannah after moments, leading the group. Hermione saw the trees thinning, wondering what they were coming to, and if it was a dead end if they had the power to fight them all off. Or, would they find others? Would they find help? Hermione couldn't know.

She heard the scuttling of feet above her and turned her head upward to see a spider crawling over the trees to jump right behind Ron. She yelled to him, and he go the message without turning, and put on a burst of speed.

The next thing they all heard was his scream.

Ernie was next closet, and stopped them before everyone went over the edge of a precipice. He squashed them out of sight from the next few spiders in the lead. A sinking sense of dread overtook Hermione…Ron had gone over the cliff. She'd arrived just in time to see a scrabbling spider fall too. She hadn't heard a cannon, but that didn't mean he was okay.

Hermione snapped her mind from her thoughts and focused as she watched curiously as the next grouping of spiders stopped before the cliff, and started to retreat. Huh…so they couldn't go off it. Soon enough, they'd smell Hermione and her teammates in the shadows and it would all be over. Hermione glanced to her left- thick forests with more spiders coming. To her right, the ravine with tumbling, loud water a mile or so down. So this was it, huh? Unless…

"Guys." Hermione said through gritted teeth in a low voice, "I'm going to do something. We can't fight them all. Do exactly as I do, and don't think of anything else, except how goddamn much you want to survive." She said, her whole body quaking with fear. Hannah started to ask what was going to happen, but Hermione untangled herself from the group and stepped to the edge of the water.

She contemplated her choices in life only briefly, because the spiders had turned her way, and that did it.

Hermione stepped off, and for a couple seconds felt nothing but air before she splashed down into the water.

She reorganized herself, pushing herself to the surfaced, and grabbed a floating log. She was glad to hear the plunge of someone- and she turned to see Elizabeth, only moments behind her. The girl was struggling, so Hermione grabbed her arm and the pair swam safely to the shore. Ernie was next, spitting out water.

"Where's Hannah?" Hermione demanded, "You know she'd be the most afraid! Why didn't you go last!"

"You told me not to think! Just do!" Ernie yelled back, "I did that!"

"Hannah!" Elizabeth was yelling from the bank, "Just jump! You'll be fine!" She looked at Hermione meaningfully, and Hermione joined. But Hannah stood petrified at the top of the ledge, fighting back spiders.

"Accio Hannah!" Ernie yelled, and whether it worked or not or was just coincidentally timed, a rock slipped from underneath her foot and Hannah fell back into the water. She hit with a terrifying sound, and Hermione did not see her resurface.

"Crap." Ernie muttered, diving back into the water. He arrived a couple seconds later, dragging her waterlogged body onto the sandy bank. Hermione looked up in triumph to see the spiders heading back. It seemed, for now at least, they'd won this first challenge. She was dreadfully worried about Ron, but she saw him nowhere, and knew that he was strong enough and had a head like a rock, so he was probably just fine.

Glancing at Hannah, she had more worrisome things to put her time to.

Already she looked deathly pale and her lips were blue. When Hermione grabbed her hand, it was cold to the touch. Ernie was attempting CPR, and Elizabeth stared with terror at her unmoving body.

"Hey, she's still alive." Hermione said, putting an arm around the shivering girl, "No cannon. She's going to be just fine." She said, although she herself didn't know if it was true or not.

Hermione watched Ernie work for some agonizingly slow time, and the trio jumped at a cannon sound. Elizabeth began to cry.

"Ernie!" Hermione jumped up, grabbing Hannah's arm to find a pulse.

"It's not her, I swear, she's okay-it's not her." He said, "See- there's a pulse." He said, showing Hermione, "Elizabeth!" He snapped, "Stop crying, she's fine. I need to focus." His anger was uncharacteristic, but it stopped Elizabeth immediately who stared at him with wide, shocked eyes.

"Ernie!" Hermione scolded, "She was worried about her friend."

"That's peachy, Hermione." Ernie snarled sarcastically, "But she's not doing much of anything to help, is she!" Ernie said, stunning Hermione and going back to his aid. There was a moment of silence where Hermione stood with her mouth agape trying to think of something to respond when there was a tiny gasp from Hannah.

Hermione immediately got behind her and with Ernie set her to a sitting position where Hannah spat out a couple mouth full's of water before turning to the side and barfing up the rest. She began to shiver.

"Get that heating blanket, Elizabeth." Ernie yelled, and Hermione threw her the beaded bag and the girl began to rummage. Hannah took a couple shaky breaths.

"Did I just almost die?" She asked, looking at her hands. Hermione took the blanket from Elizabeth, and threw it around her friend's shoulders.

"A little." She admitted, patting her friend's back.

"Awe, shit." Hannah shook her head, kicking a rock with her outstretched foot, "Now I feel like the weakest link."

"You always were, Bananas." Ernie joked smiling warmly at her, "Just so you know, I was doing CPR, so technically, we kissed." He said, winking.

"J would tell you that it was good, but since I can't seem to remember it- dying aside, I'm going to have to let you know the hard way you're just not very good at it." Hannah said, smiling at him, "Hey, do we have any food? Near death really makes a girl hungry…"

TGG

In the biggest bar in Wizarding London, it seemed the entirety of anyone who was anyone had stuffed themselves into the booths and at the bar to watch the Green Games. It was once the best place to watch Quiddich matches, the owner and bartender mused with a shake of his head and a gentle sigh, but that had since been side-lined with more…engrossing things to watch.

At the bar sat a man in expensive wizard garb, tapping his fingers on the wood and glancing at the entrance every time the creak of the door made his way over to his spot. After nearly half an hour, another wizard arrived in a bluster of a rustle of clothes, apologizing, and ordering a drink for the pair.

"Can we just-," The first wizard began to ask, but pressed his lips, "Never mind." He said, and the second clapped him gently on the back, gently murmuring. There was a roar of the crowd, and the first wizard glanced up, wincing and letting out a long winded breath as he watched Mandy Brocklehurst jumping back as the legs of the spider sunk into the ground where she had only been a moment ago.

The scene switched to where Justin was screaming out in pain as one of his friends tried to hold a jacket to his heavily bleeding wound.

"I can't even imagine! Merlin, it's horrible. I can't even imagine!" A drunken patron at the bar said, slapping the wood, nudging the first wizard, "Can you even imagine!" He repeated.

The first wizard clenched his fists, and against the urging of the second, turned.

"Yes," He replied icily, "I can."

The drunken wizard nearly fell of his barstool, gasping back, spilling his drink.

"Fred Weasley! A victor!" He sputtered. The second wizard, Bill Weasley, leaned around and pressed a finger to his lips and the drunk wizard nodded, spinning himself back around.

Fred turned back to his older brother, breathing angrily through his nose. He wouldn't be here if Bill hadn't requested a drink out with his younger brother. The bartender was required by Voldemort to play the Green Games at all times, and on a Friday night, there was clearly nothing else anyone would rather be doing. He hated the glamour, the mirage that this game created. At Hogwarts they'd been forced to watch, faces jerked up if anyone turned away. He couldn't phantom why any sane person would enjoy this when they weren't fully required to watch it. If it weren't for the people he knew in it, he might not watch at all.

One of his only solaces was seeing Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy in a cramped booth looking just as miserable as he was. He felt a flash of sympathy for them; they looked genuinely concerned for their son, even distraught most times. Perhaps they weren't as awful people as he thought they where.

A rowdy chorus of laughter erupted from the booth behind him, making Fred jar his shoulders up, sucking in. Bill and Fred turned around to see Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Bulstrode all drunk and giggling as they watched. Well, why not celebrate? Just yesterday they had graduated from Hogwarts…and from ever having to go through the pickings of the Green Games again.

"I can't believe Voldemort's letting a mudblood win!" Bulstrode hiccupped, waving to the screen.

"Awe, c'mon. He's right- we need all three levels. Whose else would work in factories, clean things, or provide wizards like us with pleasure?" Goyle pointed out, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, if that's the case." Nott responded loudly, "I'd want the mudblood that wins to be Granger. Have you seen that arse? If she wins, I want to be the first one to-,"

"Fred." Fred snapped back to Bill, and realized he'd been listening a little to hard, and clutching his glass a little too tightly, "This was stupid of me. Sorry. Let's go." Bill said, getting up, throwing some money on the counter.

Fred got up without a word, nodding in agreement. They were halfway out the door when Fred paused. His brother lightly grabbed his arm, but he was staring at a couple in a dark corner.

"Fred, what is it?" Bill asked, but Fred was walking toward them, "Fred, come back!"

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger?" Fred questioned the pair who looked up in shock.

"Who…who are you?" Mr. Granger asked, putting an arm around his shivering wife.

"I'm Fred. I'm…Ron's older brother." He finished, "I knew your daughter in school. Do you…want to come back to my parent's house? Ron…he's there too. It's easier to watch it together."

The Grangers looked between Fred, and then to Bill who stepped up next to him.

"Absolutely," He agreed, "My parents would love to meet you. Much nicer than sitting here."

"We insist." Fred pushed, until the Grangers exchanged looks nodded to each other and got up with stiffness in their bones. Fred didn't know what they looked like before this, but he was sure they aged.

Fred and Bill each took a Granger by arm and apparated to the Burrow. From the money Fred had won, they'd made it look more respectable, but sometimes, Fred missed the old days. He'd give all his money back for his brothers. Bill was good, the best of his remaining siblings, at reading his thoughts but not as good as George. He always unconsciously left a space for where his twin should have been next to him.

The effects of the Green Games on his mother were stifling. Her once vibrant red had gone completely silver, and lines of age stretched over her face prematurely. She often had hollowness in her eyes when she thought no one was watching, and Fred recognized it as the same emptiness inside himself.

"We brought the Grangers home. We thought, well-," Bill began when his mother opened the door to his house.

"Of course!" Mrs. Weasley said, "I'm embarrassed I didn't think to find you myself. What horrible news, horrible game. Come in, come in." She urged, calling back to Arthur to put more tea on heat and warned him not to bother them with muggle-like questions.

Ginny was curled on the couch, Neville with her, as the tall boy was recently as much a part of their house as any. Dean Thomas, the Patil twins, and Nigel had joined her, nodding to the redheaded brothers as they entered.

"Ron's still alive. Hermione too. In fact, no one's died." Ginny said, and although she tried to have a cheerful lit to her voice, it was clear it was extremely difficult. Bill sat next to her, rubbing her shoulders.

The Grangers were ushered to an armchair next to Mrs. Weasley. She spoke quietly to them, patting their hands in what seemed like apologies. Fred tuned them out, mostly, until came a question, which silenced the whole group.

"Where are the rest of your children? I recall Hermione telling us you have a very large family." Mrs. Granger asked. Immediately, Mrs. Weasley's face darkened.

"Five of my children have been forced into those games. One is battling them right now- and Fred, here, he made it home." She said in a low, sandy voice, smiling through tears at Fred, "Bill and Ginny are so far the only children not to be reaped. Bill it too old, and Ginny…" She trailed off.

"Gryffindors are chosen most often." Ginny finished quietly, "There's not a lot of us left."

"And your other children they…oh my." Mr. Granger realized, his eyes widening, "We are so sorry, we didn't-,"

"It's fine." Mrs. Weasley patted his hand, "They say it is an honor to have so many of my children chosen. And since Fred has won, we've received money and he's gotten fame beyond any of our wildest dreams. But I still can't see what all those that love these games see that I don't. Maybe it's a show for the childless, maybe for the sadistic." Mrs. Wealsey continued, "I just praise my lucky stars that Bill is here and Fred came home."

Bill locked his jaw, "But mom, you know I would have given anything to be there with Percy and Charlie." He said, "When this started."

"They had each other." Arthur stated sharply, angrily, "Why wish more death on this family than required. Maybe you would have won, but then what about poor Mrs. Wood who would have been alone because her only family- her only child- would have had to take the place." He asked.

Bill turned away sourly, shaking his head. Fred too almost wished sometimes he'd been part of the rebellion. Maybe more of them would have saved more lives. Maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe by now they would be living in a world where Voldemort didn't exist.

Those were just fairy-tale endings no one could talk about for fear of execution, or a cruel twist of adults in the games. No one said anymore, 'but what about the children', because most adults were cowards that would rather watch their youngest kin die than face the games themselves.

"Everyone we meet says they think my daughter will win." Mr. Granger stated, "It's scary. Can there be any truth to that?" He asked. There was a deep silence.

"Anything can happen in the games." Mrs. Weasley said, "But if the Hermione that went in there is the Hermione I know, you might just get your daughter back." She said warmly.

"And your son too, perhaps." Mrs. Granger perked up, and Mrs. Weasley gave a deep sigh, looking down.

"Sometimes I wonder if asking for more than one," She murmured, glancing sideways at Fred, "Is too selfish of a thing." She said simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'll go back to the parents often, tbh. I just really wanted Fred and the parents and everyone in there so you all can see. And surprise, surprise! You don't get to find out who the next death was yet. MWAHAHAHA. Yep, you have to wait until the next chapter. Any guesses?
> 
> Btw, I'm leaving to go back to college soon. So you can really make my day and make me happy and review. Please?


	13. Chapter 13

Draco dealt with the spider invasion like he'd dealt with everything else in his life; as a Malfoy. In layman's terms, he simply survived with ease. Well, he hadn't been exactly attacked. The spiders couldn't have broken through his elaborate shield works even if they tried, and besides, he knew they were coming anyway. It didn't take an idiot to put the rustling and the large webs he'd seen prior on his nightly stroll. Unless all the rest of the tributes had not been in the area that these appeared, well, and maybe they wouldn't have known, they'd have to all be idiots.

But they all knew from Lupin and word of mouth that one of the challenges would be spiders. Game makers wouldn't want to wait until the end so that the tributes could prepare for something. No, he was expecting this to be the first hit, and was not proved wrong.

And it had been a delightful summer day. Not the sweltering heat of the first day, but a day that had he been at home, he may have flown down to pond on the manor property and swam around for a while. It was, if not for the spiders, a rather nice and relaxing day.

One spider had been stupid enough to try to attack him, try to get through his thick wall of protection. He'd quickly dispatched it- and people said these things were hard to kill! Draco scoffed at the thought, as he prepped a knife after he'd dragged the beast into his circle of protection. He wasn't going to waste any piece of this thing, no matter how horribly disgusting it was. It was nearly as bad as that bloody bird that had attacked him third year.

But only nearly.

He harvested all the venom he could- Slughorn had immediately sent down vials as soon as he'd seen on the TV of him dragging it to him. He was well aware of the market price of the venom, and if he lived to get out of here, he might be generous to give Slughorn a vial or two and make a quick buck off the rest. If he was going to die, it was deadly venom to make sure Pansy went down with him. The only thing that was slightly worse than Pansy and Draco winning together was Pansy winning alone.

She'd kill everyone; she'd made that very clear. And Draco would be damned to admit it, but to see Hermione and Ernie (who he thought had the best chance of surviving) be killed merely by her obsession for glory would make him sour forever.

Draco had already decided if it came down to it, whether or not they'd been each other's first everything before she got all crazy, he would kill her.

It was, after all, just the way the game was played.

Spider meat was not the tastiest meat in the world, but it was food and it was there. Although, he did cast a freezing spell to put it away until he was really desperate after cooking a small bite. You know how most foreign meats taste like chicken? This, of course, was the sole exception. It tasted like an overcooked, burnt slice of bacon that had been shoved under a counter by accident and found a month later.

The rest of the spider was carefully stripped of the skin and whatever 'bones' (although it didn't technically have any, it did have some thicker muscles and other innards) that he put into a hole in the ground of supplies. Honestly, looking at the assortment, Draco was stupefied about what exactly he'd do with them. But he was confident that given time, he'd figure something out.

Lastly, ducking his head out, he dragged the spider back outside. He contemplated pushing it farther away and out of view, but realized he didn't really care. While he knew probably all the girls and even some of the guys would be completely grossed out at the curled, dead body of the spider (in its smallest form, he'd heard Daphne screaming about it) but these sorts of things had yet to phase Draco.

In Healer's lessons, they'd dissected things. Seen the ins and outs of a human body. Went on a field trip to see burn victims, war heroes horribly disfigured, and much more.

But you know the sad thing? It wasn't even close to the vileness seen at Hogwarts. If the adults had been around to witness the transformation from Dumbledore to Voldemort, they wouldn't be squeamish about this either. Not when his house was on the other end of the wand, the ones pointing it at students and cutting them open. Not when it was all covered up so nicely, like nothing ever happened to him.

Oh, Draco recalled with a scowl the day that Potter and his friends were parade up there. There was so much blood and other vitals on Charlie Weasley that Draco didn't even recognize him. After the night was over, he'd gone back to his room and barfed, unable to handle it. Flint had kicked him for being so cowardly, and strangely after that, it was all the same to him. Nothing bothered him. Nothing seemed gross.

Perhaps it was why a healer was a good choice for his career. Guy who los this hand? No problem. Delivering a baby? Fact of life. Even the Green Games, while extreme and now part of his life directly, weren't as bad as that first night.

The other side reminded him firmly that after that night, he didn't want to hurt people; he wanted to help. But he had to stifle his urge all through school lest someone find out and he be punished for choosing the wrong side. It wasn't until the ending of his seventh year he finally thought he was free, ferrying himself to Healer classes because he was the eldest in the school and no one could counter him. It had been a good couple months, he reflected. The Green Games were an inconvenience.

What did he do with all his time in which he wasn't going off looking for people to murder like others were probably doing? Honestly, a whole lot of nothing much.

But that wasn't entirely true. He had constructed a bed for himself, tying branches together until he had a frame, collecting gallons of moss in his arms and using a preservation spell on them so they wouldn't go hard, and finally spreading his sleeping bag he'd nagged on top of that. Under the roof of the precipice he'd come to call 'home' for now, it was all clay and dirt, so he dug shelves into it.

When he wasn't doing that he was strengthening his wards. It was his job as a Malfoy to know the shields around his house, and they were extensive and difficult. Even recreating one took a lot of energy on his part- and he was covering an area that was probably fifty times smaller than the manor's whole land. He couldn't imagine one person making thirty-some enchantments over an area that huge, especially because he was a good spell caster and just one taxed him nearly a whole day.

And not that he expected to kill someone, but if it came to defending himself, he wouldn't hesitate and therefore he also practiced his wandless magic.

When he heard the cannon, he'd been slicing apart the spider. He paused, looking up, trying to guess whom it was. Had it been not a day with spiders attacking, he would have guessed someone who wasn't very good at anything, and that they'd fallen and impaled themselves or something. But since it was such a day, it could be anyone.

It could be Pansy, he contemplated with a smile. Oh, wouldn't that be great. It could be Hermione too, he reminded himself, and a flinch of a scowl crossed his lips. He didn't want Hermione to die, although the reasons why escaped him.

Ah well. He'd find out soon enough. Someone would send a note down and tell him. Although he asked his parents not to (and it was clear so far they hadn't listened), he was fairly sure they'd spend the whole of the Malfoy treasury to get him out alive and keep him as comfortable as possible while here. At least they cared enough to that. Pansy's parents were wealthy enough, but you didn't see them sending down little packages from her mother saying that she loved you, in case it was the last time she could.

In that way, perhaps it explained how Pansy was. If her parents loved her a little more-

Draco sighed. That was neither here nor there. No time to contemplate how nicer some one could have been, how less bloodthirsty she may have turned out, because was here now, fighting and kicking all the way.

THE GREEN GAMES

"What do I do with this?" Pansy glanced over to see Daphne grimacing at a dead and very much destroyed spider in the clearing.

"Leave it there, like I care." Pansy said dismissively, annoyed at the attack. If the game makers had wanted some deaths for entertainment, all they had to do was tell her! But because of this, she had two wounded people and a handful of dead spiders that she had no idea what to do with. Could you eat them? Would they even taste any good?

"But it's so dead and gross looking!" Daphne whined, and if Pansy hadn't already been over the top with frustration, the high-pitched complaints sent her over.

"Then fucking drag it into the woods, Greengrass!" She all but screamed, stomping her foot, and scaring the blonde girl more than she'd intended. Daphne didn't ask another question about it, grabbing onto it with a piece of cloth, grunting as she dragged it across the clearing.

Pansy growled in frustration, sitting on the grass, staring over the turned-up field. Not that they hadn't been able to fight off a couple spiders, it was just unexpected. And frankly, Pansy was a wee bit offended. Without her, there would hardly be a game worth watching. Did they think that someone like Lavender Brown would go on a decent killing spree? Of course not. So sending these beasts in with no warning in the middle of the night was not a great way to keep your best entertainer alive.

Even a little sign would have been much appreciated.

Over in the side near the supplies, Blaise was cussing up a storm as Tracey carefully applied some salve to his wound, and bandaged it up. Bloody wanker; Pansy had half a mind to kill him first. He'd thought Pansy had been in trouble, and jumped in front of a spider, and gotten bit.

Pansy had it very much in control, of course, and didn't need half-minded, lovey-dovey eyed boys getting in the way of her plans. It served him right he'd been bit, and she'd almost been upset when someone had sent down the antidote.

Apart from him, Daphne was also wounded, although she was being more of a man than Blaise was about it. It wasn't a bad wound, either, though, Pansy contemplated as she watched the girl still struggle to carry the spiders away. Her shoulder had been dislocated, a fix even Pansy knew how to fix. Yeah, she was sure it hurt like all holy hell, but then again, she could have gotten out worse.

Pansy was quite interested to see who'd died. Everyone had their personal bets, of course, although it mostly stemmed from who they wanted out of the running the most. Nearly everyone had said Granger, which didn't make Pansy as happy as it should have.

Why? Because everyone else realized she was a threat, and Pansy wanted them to be scared of her most. Realize that someone else is worse than her, and loose her grip on everyone. They'd abandon her, or worse, try to rise against her. Now, Pansy was fairly confident in her skills, but to take on six at once? Even she knew those odds.

And what was so bloody brilliant about that Gryffindor anyway? She wasn't in fit all that much, she could hardly lift things half her weight, and maybe she was a little fancy with a wand but you didn't have those here. The most useful she would be, in Pansy's humble opinion, was to keep people alive from eating poisonous berries and whatnot.

And maybe this was her problem. Maybe Pansy should be worrying more about Granger, seeing her as a real threat. There was a very good reason why she'd gotten her score, why so many people wanted her to die, and why so many people similarly guessed her to make it to the end. While Pansy was darn confident in herself, she realized perhaps she'd been a little cocky. Maybe Hermione really was a threat? If then, if she didn't acknowledge it now, she'd be blind-sided later and be killed by stupid mistakes.

Without even realizing what she was doing, she flagged her team-members over. When they were all standing around her, the words found their way from her mouth.

"Who do you think is our biggest threat?" She asked, and everyone looked around warily, "I'm not testing you, I'm just curious." She snapped after a long moment of silence.

"Granger." Corner cracked his knuckles, "Even princesses have to break someday." He said, and everyone murmured in agreement with him.

And there she had it. Not one person had something else to say, and maybe they were going to say Draco (because he was defiantly a dangerous man, which turned Pansy on beyond words) but they all knew better than to say it.

If she only had to worry about one other person besides Draco- who would see the error of his ways soon enough, she reckoned- perhaps this game wasn't as bad as she thought.

"Why is Granger so dangerous?" She asked.

"She knows a lot. Heard she's good at wandless." Zabini said, rubbing his arm and wincing, "She also has a lot of people rooting for her."

Ah, yes, Pansy thought with an inward sigh. One could never underestimate the power of a well-liked person. Even the weakest could become the strongest depending on what sponsors sent them. And now she remembered…everyone liked Miss-Hermione-Goody-Two-Shoes-Granger.

This made Pansy pause. On one hand, kill the strongest now, and ease on through the competition with style. But she wouldn't be nearly as popular after if she seemed like she won easy. If she let Hermione come to her, and won like that, it would be much better for her public figure. But then again, if Hermione was as good as everyone here claimed, there might be a-

Nonsense. Pansy was the best opponent, best player, and best overall here. There was no reason to question the fact that she would be victorious over everyone. While the idea of drawing out the game tempted her, Pansy was also smart enough to realize that making choices like this could be her downfall.

"I think that we need to eliminate our threats then." Pansy said, smiling, "The first proper hunt of the game."

THE GREEN GAMES

"Where to now?" Hannah asked the next morning, as she helped Ernie cook obscurely, because they didn't dare light a fire.

"Old camp?" Elizabeth questioned, but then looked back over the ridge they'd jumped over, shaking her head, "Probably not. I don't know how we'd get over that cliff again."

"I agree." Hermione said, standing with her hands on her hips surveying the water. She kept hoping a ginger-head would pop up. She was terrified it had been Ron whose cannon had gone off last night, and deep down, the twisting of her stomach at that idea was too painful to cope with. Loosing Harry was one thing, and even if she and Ron weren't friends anymore necessarily, it was a whole different agony. It was a different type of dying inside than if Hannah or Ernie were to die at this point; Hannah and Ernie were new, but loyal and with her now. But she and Ron? They had history. She'd been almost embarrassingly in love with him back in her third year.

She wiped her hand across the back of her brows, letting out a long sigh. She forced her eyes away and looked to the rushing water. Taking a moment, she stepped into the first couple feet of the biting current, wiping sand and dirt away from her arms the best she could.

"Hermione…are you okay?" Hannah asked, and Hermione took a couple seconds to realize someone had asked her something. She flicked the water from her fingers, turning.

"Yes. Perfectly fine." She said hurriedly, and before either could ask something else, she pulled her hair back into a messy bun, tying it up with a long piece of fabric, "I think we should head that way. It looks like sparse fields that way, and I don't trust that." She said, pointing over her shoulder…the way Ron had gone.

Ernie and Hannah exchanged looks. Perhaps they thought her choice was based on the fact she didn't want to have to run into Ron's dead body, or his remains. But it wasn't that; that would be stupid. Well, it wasn't completely that. She honestly didn't trust the open fields. More confident people- like Pansy and her group of bloodthirsty teenagers- might stay in places like that, but Hermione was smart enough to keep an upper hand in a forest.

"Can we see if Susan is fine?" Hannah asked in a small voice.

"She's probably long gone, Bananas." Ernie said, scowling, shaking his head, "The spiders would have gone straight through her camp. You know that. Merlin willing, she got away."

"You're right," Hannah agreed, but her shoulders still deflated, "She's probably fine. I mean, she survived the first days, better than anyone thought."

"There's the spirit." Hermione said, smiling, linking her arms with Hannah, "Off into the unknown, yeah?"

The group of four walked four hours. It wasn't the heat it had been the day before, but the moistness clung to everyone. Hermione's hair, if not already completely unimaginable, fluffed out to terrifying heights. She patted it down, feeling the frizz, a couple times, but there wasn't much else she could do. They walked through the forest until they felt themselves going upward, about three to five hours into their walk. So far, nowhere had jumped out as a decent place to set up camp, and Hermione strangely began to miss the clearing they had before the spiders.

The first sign of trouble was when Hannah-not paying attention- walked right into a gigantic spider web. She momentarily freaked out, but when they realized it was abandoned, she calmed down significantly. It was then Hermione took the time to stop and look around. The forest was very much destroyed here, and either someone had fought the spiders here, or something else had happened.

"I think we should head back." Hermione said, eyeing more spider webs up above, growing in size. Sure, they hadn't encountered more spiders, but that didn't mean they hadn't retreated and weren't still around.

"Great. This place is creeping me out." Elizabeth agreed, gently touching a place where the bark of the tree had been peeled back, like a scar, revealing the softest parts.

"Wait!" Hannah cried, jumping forward, grabbing a piece of fabric of the tree, and Hermione was at her side instantly, and a bitter feeling sunk down in her stomach. She glanced, stepping back, seeing the place in the grass where someone had been undeniably dragged. And from the claw marks, places where tufts of grass had been uprooted, and branches or foliage near the base that were scatted on the ground, this person hadn't gone willingly.

"It's Susan's." Hannah said, turning to Ernie especially, clutching the fabric close to her chest, "Her mother made her this blanket, Ernie. So she wouldn't freeze in here."

"Oh, Christ." Ernie gave a low blow through his mouth, staring at it, "So that's it then?"

"We don't know for sure." Hannah said, and went sprinting in the direction of the place they'd all agreed not to go, "I have to see, guys!"

"Hannah! Come back!" Hermione called after her, stomping in anger, before following her. This was perhaps the most dangerous thing she'd done yet!

The group caught up with Hannah where she was crouched behind a thick web, and Ernie opened his mouth to say something, but Hannah shook them a terrified look and shook her head. She pointed out, and each person took turns peering through a place the web had been cut through, and saw an assembly of possibly all the spiders that were left- eight or nine- gathered around something.

Elizabeth grabbed her stomach, turning around and holding in a low groan. "Feeding time." She whispered.

"If it's her- we can't leave her. We shouldn't leave anyone to this." Hannah said. Hermione hated she was right; the Gryffindor inside her wouldn't even let Pansy suffer such a fate after death.

The spiders left were not at the strength they'd been the day pervious, and after Ernie killed the first and Hermione gave all her power to cast Harry's spell, all the rest scuttled away, much rather living another day than being killed again.

Hannah ripped away the spider webs, and immediately turned around and barfed. Ernie shouldered his way to the front, hanging his head. Elizabeth didn't even come near. Numbly, Hermione came forward, and felt her food come up in her throat as well.

"Susan…" She whispered faintly, assuring everyone's thoughts.

THE GREEN GAMES

The day pervious, Susan had returned to her little rock to find her things still untouched, thanks Merlin. She was sure that it would have been taken, but some luck was on her side. There was also a squirrel left, and it had been Hermione.

Susan kicked it away. Sure, Hermione might have been Miss-goody-two-shoes back in Hogwarts, but it was probably poisoned! Did Hermione think Susan was stupid? That she'd fall for that? Susan scoffed angrily, and even though her stomach growled in protest, she threw that squirrel far into the forest.

She hastily packed her things. Hermione would be back with others to make sure she was really dead. She was upset, but could hardly blame her. The game was to kill people, and why should anyone that was usual moral not oblige? If it kept you alive, Susan would kill someone. She'd figure out a goddamn way. She would leave in the morning, she decided, because even killers had to sleep. But the whole night, she just glanced around warily into the forest, terrified that Hermione was going to jump out and snap her neck.

When she left that morning, she was in no state to think properly whatsoever.

Indeed, she thought she was hallucinating when she heard the screams of people and the clicking of some animal. Clearly, she should have slept, she thought.

The unfortunate thing, some would comment later, after the game, that if she had stayed where she was, the spiders would have never found her. Hermione was wrong; they wouldn't have passed through her camp. But because she left, she wandered right into a second group.

Lord, Susan Bones never saw them coming. Not before it was too late.

Immediately, one grabbed onto her leg with its pinchers, and dragged her. Susan screamed and screamed, grabbing onto leaves and trees, begging for help, but got none. Once she was almost sure she saw terrified Lavender in the woods, and called out, but Lavender ran the other way. Some friend she was!

Susan wasn't naive to think that she was getting out of this alive, apart from some unholy miracle. By the time she dropped in a clearing of what seemed to be a thousand other spiders, which all spoke about food, her throat was raw from screaming and she had a voice no longer. Her whole body was shaking, and her heart beating out of her chest.

And in that moment, the only thing she could think of was a fact she'd learned about spiders in class; they ate their prey live. She managed a couple of harsh sobs, and she felt herself being turned over and over, being continually spun into a cocoon.

She would not let herself go out this way. She wouldn't let herself sit for hours of agonizing pain until she finally drifted away after there was nothing left. She couldn't let that happen.

It was a brave choice, they would tell about her later. Little scardy-Susan turned out to be one of the bravest in the games yet. For it took great courage to kill another, but to kill yourself? To know when to say when? That was different.

She had a knife, a puny one, packed away in her pocket. With the little movement she had left, she wiggled it out, and held it firmly in her sweaty fingers. Her other hand reached up and shakily felt for her heart.

On the next time she was rolled over onto her stomach, she put the knife there, and let it sink in deep.

She would not be a meal in these games; she would not be their chess piece.

THE GREEN GAMES

Hermione stared dumbly at her body. From the knife that fell away from her frail body as the binding was unwrapped more, as the pieces clicked. To her calculations, she should have died sometime this morning if she was drained by spiders, but the realization that Susan hadn't let that happen filled Hermione with a grim sense of hope.

Her second thought brought her back to her childhood; in a little box she'd very much like to have forgotten. She had been on her aunt's farm, running around and catching tadpoles and fancy frogs to keep in a bucket for the week. She hadn't been more than six or seven; and it all came back. Her stained dress, her ruined socks and nice church shoes, the smell of the long grass and the way it felt as it tickled her calves as she ran through it, dragging the gallon bucket behind her.

Coming up to the creek, she saw a stately looking frog sitting frozen on a rock. She ducked close, coming nearly up to it, but it didn't move or flinch at all, which Hermione found to be extraordinarily strange. Therefore, she sat back on her haunches and waited, watches, wondered.

All of a sudden, it's eyes just bulged from its head and the skin collapsed in on itself, as if there was no organs inside to hold it up anymore. Hermione had screamed, horrified, as she watched the empty skin float in the water, like a deflated balloon. There had once been a frog there, and in a matter of seconds, it was just…just dead!

Her aunt and uncle had come quickly of course, and both sighed in defeat that their niece had witnessed such a thing. It was this little water-bug thing, you see, and it ate frogs. But not the normal way; it injected it with its long nose and liquefied the insides and then drank it up until there was nothing left but the carcass of the frog.

Hermione had sat wide-eyed and speechless at their wood table, staring out to the pond with horror. She'd asked if it had felt it, or if it was already dead by the time the bug poked it. Her uncle and aunt shared looks, smiled, and insisted that it felt no pain, but from their hesitation, Hermione knew. She knew that that frog had been eaten alive, and well, it probably hurt a lot, up until there was nothing left.

She hadn't visited that pond ever again. As a child, it had scarred her. She'd put it away in the back of her mind, closing it firmly behind doors and doors in the places she kept her worst memories, but here, it sprung back up in all it's disgusting glory, and aptly so.

Because all that was left of Susan was her skin. Even her bones seemed to have been taken from her, and when the knife had fallen away, there hadn't even been blood left to come with. Her eyes were glazed, her whole body dry and frail, like she'd been sitting out and shriveled up. It was a grisly sight, and Hermione was almost sure that after this, nothing else could be as bad.

Ernie covered her body back up with the web, drying his eyes and shaking his head.

"What a way to go." He whispered, wincing, "Eaten alive. Gosh…"

Everyone seemed a little bit more than off after that, and as much as they wanted to sit vigil for Susan, this clearing only held bad memories, and they left rather quickly. Hermione did hear a familiar neighing and turned back to see a flock of threstals, though, and smiled. At least her family would receive what was left of her body so that they could hold a funeral. She was sure that the feeding was partially filmed, and felt the bile rise again in her throat. That was one part, that if she got out, Hermione had no desire whatsoever to see.

The group was silent, and Hermione counted the days that had passed in her head. The pattern of weather was so far pretty unpredictable, and Hermione was sure that wasn't just chance. Oh no, they hired some of the craftiest riddlers to be part of the game-making experience. If you were sly and clever enough, and could handle all the blood on your hands for being part of something so awful, the title of game-maker paid well enough. It was coveted by many Slytherins, which Hermione wasn't all to surprised about.

Now, back to the days.

The first day had been- oh, what was the first day?

Hermione voiced her questions to her group, and not long after, they found a clearing to set up camp in (not nearly as good as their first place, though) and they all sat in a circle, thinking.

"Our first day was…really hot." Ernie said, scratching his head, and Hermione recalled people shucking their thicker jackets the first moment the sun hit their skin.

"Like a really bad or good summer's day, depending on how you look at it." Hannah interjected. Hermione nodded excitedly.

"Season! Yes, describe as seasons." She said, assured that seasons had something to do with it, but wasn't quite sure.

"Second day was cooler, but still warm. More…spring." Elizabeth thought for a moment.

"Mhh, I'd call it spring too." Hermione began to draw in the dirt.

"Yesterday was summer again, and today is the same moist spring feel." Ernie counted off on his fingers, "So…switching between those two? I mean, with only those, how can you be sure that the other two seasons will appear at all?" He asked.

"Because of this." Hermione touched the jacket, "The game-makers…they wouldn't just give us something for no reason, something that would waste money to make. These coats were expensive no doubt." Hermione reasoned, "But I have no idea whatsoever of when it's going to hit. It could be tomorrow for all we know."

"It's only been four days." Ernie said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You can't possibly figure something out after only four days."

"I guess I'm just going to have to stay alive longer; to figure it out." Hermione said, only half-teasingly, glancing at Ernie.

"If you stay alive for no other reason..." He chuckled, turning over, "Night, everyone. Don't die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry this update is so late, relatively to some other updates, but I've been rather neglecting all my fanfics, not just you all! (Stupid, stupid school) But hey, it's here, and all good things. Get to find out who died...and wow, next chapter should come out soon. It's a HUGE chapter I've been waiting to write for awhile :)
> 
> So...yep :) Thank you Ernie, for those unimaginably original words of wisdom.
> 
> So the bug that Hermione talked about, let me just talk about that myself for a second. So back in my junior year of high school, I was totally blindsided and we had to read this story about the author re-telling seeing this happen, but of course in much vivid and disgusting detail than I did, and I was sick to my stomach as we read it. Go to school the next day and my teacher's like 'Oh, it's a real bug! Let's watch a video of it happening!' and I knew I'd be sick if I did so I didn't but someone called my name and I thought the video was over and I saw the deflated carcass of the frog on the youtube video and the nasty water bug with it...
> 
> ...and I barfed. Right in the classroom. Yep.
> 
> So, if you are brave of heart and curious, or if you want to upchuck your dinner, go check it out. I was going to look up the actual name for it, but I chickened out yesterday and just couldn't do it. Just...no. but if you look up something like 'water bug eats frog' I'm sure you'll find it.
> 
> I sincerely hope I have't scarred any of you for life if you go and search that XD
> 
> If you read this and haven't left a review, just be a good-guy and do so. Don't know what to say? How about this?
> 
> a) if you did go and watch the video of that water bug thing, what did you think (did you puke too!?)
> 
> b) what POV would you like to see (It could be a character we haven't seen yet or a character you just want more of that perhaps has had one already)
> 
> c) Who do you think or want to die next (Can't say Pansy! She's going to be around for awhile, sorry y'all).
> 
> AND since you guys haven't seen it in awhile, thought I'd provide a list of- as of now- the people still alive. Every time someone dies in a chapter, I'll update it so you know whose still kicking.
> 
> SLYTHERINS: Pansy, Daphne, Tracey, Draco, Blaise, Pike (All)
> 
> RAVENCLAW: Mandy, Elizabeth, Luna, Corner, Caligula, Duke (All)
> 
> GRYFFINDOR: Lavender, Hermione, Ron, Seamus, Colin (-1)
> 
> HUFFLEPUFF: Hannah, Leanne, Justin, Ernie (-2)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If i were going to sum up this chapter in one sentence; shit is going to hit the fan. And well, you'll understand by the time we get to the end. And a fair warning, we're entering into some major character death, of like people we've come to know and love, so...I'm sorry in advance. Hopefully ya'll won't hate me too much. On the bright side, we get to see a character POV a ton of people have been begging about, so yay!

Early morning, Pansy sat up long before the sun rose, watching the sides of the clearing with careful, calculating eyes. Every so often, her gaze would flicker back to her sleeping- well, companions, for the best case scenario, but Pansy knew herself she thought little of any of them. She watched the way they slept; like how Daphne would roll every half-hour, or that Pike liked to mumble things in his sleep. Deep down inside, in a place she'd long ago shut away, a fire kindled and burned at these little moments.

Once, yeah, they'd been her friends.

As a child, someone like her and Daphne were best buddies. Flower crowns, giggling about boys, tea parties with all the pets and stuffed animals in the house, yes she'd done all that with her and Lavender Brown; before that girl showed and Gryffindor traits. But that was when they were children.

Hell, they weren't children anymore. And Pansy couldn't think of things like that if she wanted to win. So, instead, she summoned every moment she'd ever been upset with Daphne and let those thoughts sit and simmer deep within her mind. Slowly, she made herself hate the girl. It was the best way Pansy knew to be able to let her die.

Duke woke first, stretching languidly, and kicked Corner awake, who jumped up, knife-in-hand, like he was under attack and Pansy tried not to laugh at his stupidity. If they were under attack to the point someone was poking him, he wouldn't be alive much longer to retaliate.

Soon, everyone else was up, just as the sun was peeking over the horizon.

Pansy did plan on making good on her words today, that they would begin their first hunt for people. No one took food, no one did anything but congregate towards Pansy, even though by the time Blaise was awake, it was a good hour in between when Duke awoke. Yes, she had them tied to her good and well.

"We need to decide whose going in which direction." Pansy stated, "All four directions covered, and you won't return until you've killed someone, okay?" She said. There were enthusiastic nods and slightly less so, but no one said anything.

Well, there were four Slytherins and two Ravenclaws. Pansy was obviously going to trust one group of the other, so she let her housemates pick directions first.

Blaise picked to the south; Daphne to the east, Pike to the north, and that left Tracey to the west. Pansy was a bit unsure about sending Tracey off on her own, in all her years of a Slytherin she'd hardly seem a redeeming quality of the girl, but alas, best case scenario, she'd die quickly.

"With you two left, I suppose I'll let you chose which partner you'll go with." Pansy said, sighing, turning to the two boys left. Corner chose to go with Blaise, which Pansy had little opinion of. Corner had already proven himself with one kill, and Blaise had only gotten in the way of things, so perhaps Corner would teach Blaise a lesson or two out there. Duke decided to go with Daphne, and Pansy was pretty sure it was because he had a little more than just friendly admiration for the long-legged girl.

"So, are you heading with me or Tracey, then?" Pike asked, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

"Me?" Pansy gave a small scoff, "I'm staying here, protecting the food and gathering Intel. I have to keep a constant place for us to meet back up, if any of you survive this." She said, and Pike nodded once in understanding. Everyone did, actually, except Duke, who gave an outraged sound from the back of his throat.

"Seriously? You get to sit here and get fat while the rest of us go out there to kill people? Last I heard, you didn't kill anyone either so-,"

Pansy hardly knew what she was doing, and Duke never saw it coming. She grabbed his neck hard, and with a force she didn't realize she was exerting shoved him hard until he was against a tree.

"What were you saying?" She snarled deep in his face, and tightened her grip on his neck. Although with her one small hand, she probably couldn't do much, she fueled every bit of dark magic she'd been practicing deep through her veins and to her bidding, pushing herself until she felt her magic lock onto his windpipes, and she squeezed.

Everyone in the clearing watched in horror as Duke's eyes bulged, and he began to frantically claw at her singular hand that kept him against the tree, as his face turned shades of blue. It was at the moment when Pansy felt him slipping, and Merlin she was tempted, but this isn't how she wanted it to be, not her first kill, and she stepped back, letting him fall to the ground.

Duke gasped, falling face-first onto the ground, looking up to her.

"Do you have anything else to say?" She asked with narrowed eyes. Duke shook his head, and Daphne darted forward to help him up. He rubbed his neck, although there would be no bruises externally as it was all done from the inside, looking warily at Pansy.

"The packs are laid out there, one for each. It doesn't have a lot, but you will not return for more or better food until you have a kill. And I will know if you didn't. I, in the meantime, will be here." Pansy said, stepping over Duke's still collapsed form, kicking his pack toward him hard. He grabbed it like a skittish mouse, and Pansy watched with satisfaction as everyone darted away, and she was assured no one was going to disobey or question her.

And once they were gone, Pansy let out in a huge breath, and he knees shook and she felt them buckle underneath her. Crawling feebly to the food area, her hands shaking so badly that she almost couldn't take off the cap to the water, but when she did, she drank it in one gulp.

That was the thing about power; it was all about perception. She made her companions see it exactly as she needed them to, and nothing more or less. Truthfully, had she been forced to go out or do anything else, or if Duke had rebelled against her in that one moment, Pansy knew without a doubt she could have- no would have- been killed. She was weak and powerless at this moment, as she let her hands find a energy bar, and when it landed with a dull thud in her stomach from how much that little show had sapped available power, it almost hurt.

It was a gamble, she thought as she pushed herself into a sleeping back to stop the shivering. Someone could have seen through it. Something could have gone wrong, but Pansy had also had faith it wouldn't. She knew that it was how she had to be seen, for Duke wasn't the only one who had begun to murmur within her group, or else everything would fall apart.

Yes, power was just a magical show of illusion, so it was a damn good thing Pansy was a witch.

THE GREEN GAMES

They had checked everywhere. Or so it felt, within their little area of square-footage that they had made a sort of home, but he wasn't there. Which meant he was out there someone, and that was a terrifying thought.

With a hard glance at Luna, Seamus saw her expression wave a bit as she reached once again the line of their territory. It was hard to see though, someone who had only known her very well would have been able to see it. It was the way she hid it, the way she carefully stooped down to pick up a rock, talking about how the moss on it wasn't actually moss, and the slight tremble of her fingers as she stuffed it within the bag that kept things of all sorts, like she always did at a marker.

"We'll find him Luna," Seamus said, and it startled her, "Ron'll be okay. His head's thick as a rock, init?" He teased lightly, and Luna just gave him one of her moony smiles.

"He's quite alright, Seamus. No need to reassure me." She said, with a small wave of her hand, as if it had no effect on her. But Merlin, that wasn't true. Since the spider invasion, and Ron had run off bloody screaming like a wee girl (as had everyone; he supposed) Luna had eaten less. Already her skin and appearance had seemed banshee like, but now, moreso than ever, the paleness caught the light of the sun.

Seamus suppressed a long groan. It would have been better, had there not been the cannon, but there had been. And neither of them could deny the fact that maybe it was Ron. He had gone off so quickly, so ill prepared, and Seamus heard rushing water someone east, a cliff of some sort. It could be Ron.

But they still continued to look, like they had all of yesterday, waiting for his red hair to pop up and for him to joke like he'd been playing a game all along. Back at camp, eating some something that Luna had been sent down (tasted average, looked bloody terrifying; she told him it did something for something, but Seamus could never keep her weird thoughts straight in his mind) Luna grew farther and farther away, as if she wasn't already.

"Luna." Seamus said, and she didn't respond, "Lovegood. Eh?" It wasn't until he went up and waved a hand in front of her face she snapped back, smiling at him.

"I'm sorry. I was just off to…Egypt, maybe? Oh, it was something," She smiled lightly. Astral projection; that's what she'd told him it was. She did it when she was doing nothing important, and she always had wonderful stories when she returned. Did Seamus believe it? Naw; he might be a wizard, but he was skeptical. But it did seem to help Luna, alleviate some stress from all this, but Seamus was worried she'd slip into this projection during a battle or something. She'd be left venerable.

And so far the general lack of Slytherins trying to kill him concerned Seamus. Surely they weren't treating this as a vacation, nor were they dead (one cannon; not six, sadly) and he hadn't heard a pep from them. Most action had been the spiders, not that Seamus was asking for something more. But, still, it was a worry.

"Where did you just so Seamus?" Luna asked him, and he realized his thoughts had left him zoning out for more than a reasonable moment. He gave a wry smile to her.

"Ireland." He said, deciding to humor her, as his reality had been much more bloody, "With my family. On vacation, when I was just a boy." He said, and as he spoke, it was almost as if the words took him there for real, and he felt the most painful tearing at his heart, "My mum saved up everything she had from her job before she had us and took us there." He said. Now he thought of his mother, and maybe a brother or two, watching him here, dying. He hoped his mum heard him say it; hard enough already to bear it.

"Sounds lovely, Seamus." Luna smiled at him, as if he was the one who was physiologically deteriorating at the moment, but perhaps it was best not to think such things, "I'd imagine it's a very nice place to go when we're in a nasty place like this."

"The best." Seamus agreed, watching her, nodding slowly. There were a couple moments of tense silence before Luna stood, going to her bag she'd fashioned from sap and leaves (that, surprisingly, held well) and gathered her things.

"Where are we going?" He asked, a strangled sound of surprise coming forth.

"I'm going one way, you'll probably go another." Luna said.

"What? No, Luna, I'm goin' where you go. I'm 'posed to protect ye." He said, "Ron-,"

"Isn't here right now, which is our problem." Luna said, "And I can't keep you. There are others in this forest you seek." She said, all too knowingly. Seamus swallowed hard.

"What if I chose to go the direction you go?" He challenged, feeling his throat run dry.

"But you won't." Luna said as if it was obvious, staring at him, and tucking a knife into her boot before offering the remaining one to him.

"I could." Seamus growled, feeling ultimately torn. Luna went over, saying nothing, but stamped out the fire and tied up the weird food, before putting it into her pocket. She took Seamus' hand, gently.

"Goodbye Seamus. I do very much hope we meet again. Don't follow me for feelings you must, I hold you to no promises." She said, "For I know it was not this you wanted much at all."

"Luna, you can't just go off into the forest alone." Seamus snapped, and although eh knew he should follow her, she laughed.

"The nargles are here to show me which way to go." She said, and when she stepped forward, Seamus did too. She turned slightly, a grin on her face, "Seamus; this isn't your path. Don't take it too." She said, almost pleading, "I will do what I must on mine, as you must do on yours."

"But how can you be so sure that I shouldn't go with you?" Seamus asked, looking into the forest, seeing nothing much of a path himself. Luna's eyes blinked at him, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's quite obvious, Seamus." Luna said, "You know it, and more, you feel it. If you follow that, you'll do well. Good luck, Seamus." Luna said, leaving him breathless in the woods. Hell, it was obvious. But he hadn't wanted to see it. But now, feeling oddly free from having to watch Luna (who, he had to remind himself, was more capable than she often seemed) he spun around in a circle, chuckling darkly to himself.

"Well, heart," He scoffed a bit, "Left or right?" He paused, rolling his eyes, "Yep, I thin' left too."

THE GREEN GAMES

There was a light tinkling of bells in the morning, which roused Hermione from her light slumber. Blinking almost tiredly, she yawned and let her eyes adjust to view a silver compartment tangled in the trees, the little parachute strings tangled impossibly in a low hanging set of branches.

Curious, Hermione stood, stretched, and padded over to the it, and after a moment of hesitation, took the it down, holding the bowl like structure in her hands. There was no name anywhere, but from the insertion of this from the previous games, Hermione was quite sure it was a package meant for someone here- someone from the outside had sent it. The game makers were utterly precise with sending these down; it would be awful if someone paid a whole lot of money and another contestant received it instead.

But, alas, there was no way to tell whom it was intended for. Hermione sat with it until everyone else woke up.

"Is anyone expecting anything?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, holding it slightly up.

"Not that I'm aware of." Hannah shook her head, "I mean, you would know, we'd all know." She pointed out.

"Maybe it's for all of us."

"What if it's not, though," Ernie pointed out, "And we open it and it's something embarrassing."

Hannah gave a low moan of annoyance, "What could possibly be in there that would qualify as embarrassing."

"I don't know a dildo or-,"

"Why in Merlin's name would someone send that down?" Hannah cried, "Just open it Hermione! Ernie's being stupid, and well, we're all friends here." She said. Hermione nodded at her words, and pressed the button on the side, and with a slight mechanical roar, the compartment on the top slid apart cleanly to reveal four neatly tucked packages, this one, with names on each. She handed them out, the little drawstring bags, and everyone looked on with confusion.

"Who would send something to each of us?" Elizabeth asked, weighing the package in her hand.

"Maybe it's the Malfoys and they're bombs." Ernie said, immediately dropping his and backing away. Hermione chuckled, looking in the bottom of the device.

"Good thought, but no, Ernie." She said, rolling her eyes, "Here's a note from the sender."

Everyone leaned in, and Hermione glanced it over once, and felt her throat clog with emotion. Even so, she forced a smile, and read.

"To the four kind souls who saved my daughter's body; I am forever grateful. It is because of you we get to mourn Susan properly, and I doubt many other contestants would be so kind. Please accept these gifts on behalf of our utmost gratitude. Sincerely, the Bones."

When she finished, there was a quiet and reflective silence. She was aware that Susan was a pureblood, but they weren't really wealthy like some others. They were modestly wealthy, as far as Hermione knew, so it made it that much more meaningful that they would spend money on someone other than their daughter to do this.

After the confirmation that someone wouldn't be killing them via this package, everyone tore in. Hermione's bag contained five things, and it was clear this was not a survival package, but an honest 'thank-you' sort of thing. First off, there was her favorite candy- Razzles- a token from her childhood. Since she had gone to Hogwarts, she hadn't had these since she was young. And seeing the package sitting in her palm, just it being there, invoked an onslaught of happy memories from her childhood. The second item was a little bar of soap. On one hand, it was utterly pointless, when someone was racing for his or her lives, but on the other hand, it was something so good to have and Hermione was almost giddy at the idea of washing herself properly in a stream that she couldn't help but let a laugh escape. The third item was a group of tea bags; also such a luxury, but something Hermione was glad to have. It was easy enough to use these; they already knew how to heat water.

The last two items were notes. The first note was from all the Weasleys, plus Neville, Dean and a couple others, with everyone voicing a sentiment of confidence or a happy message. It warmed Hermione's heart, because it was often easy to forget that all her friends were watching her at home. The last item, and the second note, was undoubtedly from her parents. She knew as she began to unroll the parchment, he moment her eyes laid view to the scrawled penmanship. She was just about to read when there was a strangled cry from Elizabeth.

Everyone looked over at her, to see her reading a similar message, her hand clasped over her mouth and her eyes filling with tears.

"I'm sorry, I just…my parents. Merlin, I didn't even know they had to watch this. I was hoping…"She sucked a shaky breath in.

"Because you're a muggle-born, right?" Hannah said, and Elizabeth gave a sharp nod.

"I mean, I knew my brother would watch, but I hoped he could keep them away. They were so happy when they found out we were magical, it's hard from them, I imagine to watch something like this awfulness." She whispered in a small voice.

"They took your magic well?" Ernie asked, and Hermione could tell it was purely conversationally. Elizabeth nodded.

"My dad, he's a huge geek. Lord of the Rings and all. He was so thrilled, it wasn't exactly Middle Earth, but it was pretty close. He's always been really involved with it and all. When Voldemort came forth, my mum wanted to pull us out to be muggles but my dad, he gave us the choice. Told us that it was our decision if we could live without it."

"Your parents seem like great people." Ernie said, a soft grin on his face.

"They're the best." Elizabeth agreed, "My dad wrote this note. He…" Elizabeth couldn't find the words to finish, but smiled through a couple tears, "Merlin…" She shook her head, "I'm sobbing like a baby."

"Its fine," Hannah moved over to comfort her, "My parents wrote me a note too. I'm terrified to read it, because I know I'll start crying too." She said, "I think you're very brave to want to read it in the first place." Hannah said with a smile.

"You think?"

"Of course." Ernie agreed, and Hermione nodded for good measure. Elizabeth wiped her tears away on the back of her hand, and in that moment, she seemed as young as the world probably perceived her to be. Even last this long at this young, it was hard to recall she was only thirteen. Just recently a true teenager. Still small, and childlike.

"I think we should move camps." Ernie stated after a moment, "We can do better than this place." He motioned around them.

"I agree." Hermione said, as she began to roll and fold the sleeping bags, "I'll clean camp with Elizabeth, and you and Hannah go hunting for food, ya?" She asked, and there was a general consensus of agreement.

Hannah returned first; the camp already stowed away in Hermione's everlasting bag. She was carrying a bird basket. "I feel bad, eating these eggs." She pouted, "But I mean, they look like a banquet right now!" She said.

"I'm sure the mother-," Elizabeth began but Hannah gently pushed her shoulder.

"Don't say that, or I'll never want to eat these eggs!" She looked around the camp, "Ernie's not back?"

"Well, we know Ernie." Hermione rolled her eyes, "He wouldn't come back with just some eggs; no he'll want to bring home a whale." She teased, and Hannah chuckled. But he was gone an awfully long time. In fact, so long that they all became hungry and divided up his share of eggs.

"He can eat something else. Whatever he returns with." Hannah said, stabbing his portion of egg with a stick, and licking her fingers clean, "What is he doing, though? Seriously? Domesticating squirrels?" She teased.

"There he is!" Elizabeth said, pointing to the part of the circle behind them. He was walking awkwardly, as if there was something wrong with some leg. He was also noticeably empty handed; not even his weapons he'd left with. Hermione narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Ernie?" She asked, "Are you okay?"

"Elizabeth! Ru-," He began to say, but before he could finish, the tip of a sword poked through his chest, and blood rose and bubbled over his lips, dribbling down as his eyes glazed over. It didn't even really connect in Hermione's mind until she heard the cannon.

And in such a short instant; Ernie was dead.

THE GREEN GAMES

Ernie took off in the direction he heard the most scurrying around, and was hopeful to bring back something about the size of a small dog- maybe some sort of porcupine. Could you eat a porcupine? Ah, well, he supposed he would find out.

Unfortunately, his efforts were overestimated, for he felt himself walking in the direction back to the camp with noting to show. Not even a damn mouse. But to say he wasn't at least a bit distracted would be a lie. He was very distracted, for a couple reasons, all of which hit him hard in the chest today with the arrival of that package.

It was because of this, that he initially didn't hear the crunching footsteps near the clearing, not until they were right above him. He spun around, his sword pressed outward, but found another sword at his neck, the same place his own was at his attackers.

The pair regarded each other for a moment, both experiencing the press of the cold metal against their necks.

"Blaise." Ernie grunted, nodding to the dark-skinned man. Neither lowered their weapon, but glared at each other.

"I see we're at a standoff." Blaise said, and pressed just a little more pressure to his throat, and Ernie returned the favor, but just a little more, to the point where he saw a tiny line of red appear on Blaise's neck.

"Not so. I yell, three others come out and we all kill you."

"You think I'm stupid enough to engage you alone? How can you be sure that there isn't Pansy's whole group hiding in the bushes?" HE questioned, and Ernie locked his jaw. He couldn't be sure; in fact, he was sure there was. He grunted.

"Okay, so why not just kill us all quickly, hmm?" He asked.

"Because there are more fun ways." Blaise said with a grin. Ernie let out a scoff.

"Bloody dramatics." He hissed under his breath, rolling his eyes, "And just what could be more fun than slaughtering us all right now?" He questioned.

"Watching you slaughter your friends, of course." Blaise said, "Before we kill you."

"Why in the world would I do that?" Ernie questioned, chuckling at his words.

"Because if you don't, we'll kill Elizabeth first. And she will suffer."

There was a small silence, before Ernie laughed, "I don't know why you think I'd care."

"Awe, Ernie, you lie almost good enough to be a Slytherin." Blaise said, and Ernie's eyes widened a bit, but he didn't say anything more, "You see, I might not be gifted in wandless magic. That's all fine, you know. But I do have other talents. Like…my money. Or my father's ability to dig up people's secrets. That one I think is much more worth my time. And oh, do I have secrets on you."

"Nothing that would help you, I assure you." Ernie said, and Blaise hummed softly.

"I already said you were a good liar, you don't have to keep it up." He said, "I know about Elizabeth."

There were a few moments where Ernie merely raised his eyebrows, and said nothing, and Blaise gave a dramatic sigh, "Shall I spell it out for everyone? Ah, I'm sure everyone at home is dying to know anyway. Well, I did some interesting family tree research on you. You have a sister, older one. 13 years older, in fact. And while one could argue that the reason that she's basically unknown is the age difference, we all know- or I do now- it's because she was a squib. And well, as a pureblood, can't have that in your family. So she was sent to live in the muggle world. And you were just five when it happened, I'm shocked you even recall, but when she was eighteen, she was raped and impregnated…and was going to keep the kids- twins- until tragically, she didn't survive the birth. Some silly muggle complication that is so easily fixed here."

Ernie was still silent, but his lips had pulled into a frown, as Blaise continued, "And you didn't think you'd ever meet your niece or nephew, but alas, in your fifth year, Elizabeth and Andrew walked through those Hogwarts doors, and well, you knew right then and there who they were. I don't know if your mother does, but she does now. And you were probably going to choose to go in after Elizabeth, if you're name wasn't chosen. Pull a Hermione. But I guess you were lucky."

"Fine, you know." Ernie shrugged, "I don't' see why-,"

"Because I reckon you'd do anything for her. Kill for her. I mean, you were going to have to kill Granger eventually, as she was the other muggle-born in the running, right? Well, if you go out there, like nothing's wrong, and slit the throats of Hannah and Hermione, we'll let Elizabeth get a five-minute head start. Swear. You'll see her run before we kill you." Blaise said, "Deal?"

There was a tense couple of moments, but Ernie raised his head high, feeling a tear drop leak down his cheek, as he swallowed roughly, shaking his head.

"I love Elizabeth, but I hardly knew my sister and hell, I'm not that kind of despicable person." He said, shaking all over. With a flash, the sword was on the ground, and Ernie realized dumbly that Blaise could have done that at any time, he was just playing him. He felt Blaise grab his shoulders, crouching behind him, and the tip of his sword poking painfully into his back.

"Well, then, let's take a walk, McMillian." He said, and pressed the sword further, "C'mon, big guy, let's move."

THE GREEN GAMES

Elizabeth screamed.

It was a reasonable response, and Hermione was too stunned to shush her anymore…but clearly, their location had been found out, and they were compromised. Watching Ernie fall was like watching a move in slow motion. It was unfathomable. Ernie couldn't be dead. No, not just like that!

Hermione shook her head and came to her senses when she saw the person who took the sword from his back, stepping on his corpse to get the right angle to slide the knife cleanly out…Zabini. And her blood turned into fire.

Without even thinking Hermione threw her left hand out, and a ball of fire exploded from her fingers, aiming straight at his face. He ducked at the last moment, and stared at her incredulously.

"So Granger knows wandless." He said, and whistled, and Hermione looked meaningfully at Elizabeth.

"Run." She hissed.

"But-,"

"Goddamit, run, Elizabeth." Hermione growled deeper, knowing the young girl, although proven herself so far, was no match for the deranged group Pansy employed.

"Catch her!" Blaise shouted to someone in the trees as Elizabeth scrambled away, faster than Hermione had ever seen her run. Someone else went breaking through the undergrowth after her, and Hermione just prayed she'd be safe. She lunged for her bag, but Zabini acted quickly, kicking it away, landing a hard jab across Hermione's jaw with the but of his sword, causing her to spin onto the ground, and turned to see Hannah lunging at him. Two against one, they could manage that, right?

Through the dizzy pain of the blow, Hermione touched her cheek gingerly, and felt the blood welling through her fingers onto the ground. Shaking those thoughts away, she found herself almost nose to nose with Ernie's face, staring right through her. With the horror that rose up in her throat, Hermione shoved herself up and caught Blaise by his feet, plowing him down so he crashed down, and grabbed his sword.

"Expelliarmus!" The yell came from behind Hermione, and before she could turn to deflect it, the sword flew from her fingers and stuck itself into the bark of a tree. Corner wrenched the object, grinning cruelly, holding two weapons in his hands as he advanced to Hermione. She ground her teeth in frustration; the spell hadn't been powerful at all, and if she'd just been paying attention, she mostly would have been able to withstand it.

Well, it was an even fight now, Hermione supposed. But their weapons were packed away, and she could see Hannah's mind slowly breaking down, even though she was doing a fine job of keeping herself alive still.

"Immobulus." Hermione cried back, but her spell was deflected off the Blaise's sword in Corner's hand, and she herself just missed it. While she was down, she heard him cast an Avada her way and leapt out of the way to see the green spell make a crater where she was. She swallowed hard. It was clear their intention was to kill. Hermione sure as hell wasn't going to merely keep using such 'nice' spells.

"Defodio!" Hermione cried, and although Corner saw it coming, and tried to deflect it, he miscalculated and a large part hit his leg. With a wail of pain, blood began to pour from a large part of his leg, which was now missing, and Hermione began to stand.

"You bitch." Corner hissed out, wheezing, as he sunk the sword into the ground, grabbing his wound with his hand, "I'm going to kill you." He hissed, and threw his sword in her direction, which she deflected with a simple shield charm, and it clattered at her feet. She picked it up, and felt the fingers of someone on her throat, pushing hard. Glancing over at Hannah, she saw her friend lying on the ground, although not dead- thankfully. If Blaise had abandoned her to save Corner, Hermione must have done something right. She saw Hannah's eyes meet hers and widen, and she tried to get up. Shaking her head as much as she could without being noticed, she motioned for Hannah to run. She was wounded and in no condition to take him on. Luckily, Hannah understood, although her eyes shone with pain and she began to roll out of the clearing.

"Where'd the other one go?" Corner cried, noticing Hannah's absence.

The lights behind Hermione's eyes began to fade, and she saw darkness washing over her vision. With a defiant jab backwards, she heard Blaise moan and crumple to the ground, holding his crotch and glaring hard. Hermione didn't take time to be the hero; she ran across clearing and scooped up her bag, passing Ernie as she bolted.

She was so focused on getting away she didn't even hear the spell thrown at her back. But heck, she felt it. She tripped and tumbled, sliding ungracefully into a bush, and lay halfway under the thorny twigs, staring outward and breathing heavily. It felt as a train had just run over her. Her fingers twitched and she realized in her tumble she hadn't lost her beaded bag, and she felt her head float with dizziness. Her fingers clumsily undid the tie, and she felt around, trying to find something that could save her. Her fingers brushed a lightweight fabric, and, confused, she pulled it out to see it shimmer.

Ah…she thought faintly, the invisibility cloak. Her fingers fell and she felt her vision going, as the cloak fell to the side. She realized that that spell had probably made her bleed somewhere, or some damage elsewhere, for she shouldn't be so fuzzy. Or, the hit that Blaise had originally given her had produced a concussion, and this was it finally catching up.

Put the cloak on, 'Mione! She heard the faintest voice far away, and groggily lifted her head.

"H…harry?" She whispered, "Harry are you there?" She asked, delirious.

Hermione, they're coming. Save yourself. Put the cloak on, and for god's sake, don't fall asleep. You might not wake back up. Do this for me, Hermione.

"Okay Harry," Hermione mumbled, or she thought she mumbled, but her words were horribly jumbled, but nevertheless, she managed to cover herself with the cloak and watched outside, trying desperately to stay awake.

There was rustling in the undergrowth, as Hermione's eyes grew weary. Hannah limped out into where Hermione was, and Hermione wanted to call to her, but the words caught in her throat and she only let out a tiny breath of air. Blaise and Corner leapt from the cover, and Hannah gave a feeble cry stumbling back, but was caught between the two of them.

On the inside of Hermione, the part that was still functioning, it was screaming. Screaming and kicking at Hermione's other part, the outside part that was slowly slipping away. Telling her to help her friend, but Hermione sat motionless. Hermione watched with inward horror as her vision blurred in front of her, like it wasn't actually happening, or Hermione was watching through water or something that made everything smudgy, as Corner brought a rock down hard over Hannah's head.

The sound of the cannon coincided with Hannah hitting the ground, perfectly timed.

"Hannah…" Hermione's whisper was hardly anything at all, before her vision blurred out and she felt the darkness take her too.

THE GREEN GAMES

Hannah rolled away from the clearing, and although she felt like a tooth or two might have been knocked free, and there would be a bruise the size of England on her head if she survived this, she knew that Hermione would be okay, and that she needed to get out of here.

The reeling shock that Ernie was gone replayed over and over and over in her mind. It wasn't real, this just honestly couldn't be happening. Ernie was one of her best friends since she was a child, and he was so funny, and how could someone like that just die? In one moment, just be gone? And now, as she forced herself up, limping, she recalled the look of absolute terror on his face moments before he died. How did not even Hermione se that the moment he walked into the clearing. How were they all so unprepared that they were ambushed? There were three, Hannah thought, one that was probably still chasing Elizabeth. But there had been no cannon, so therefore, she was safe.

Hannah kept limping until a thought hit her; Ernie was dead. Elizabeth was running and Hermione…Hermione protected her. She couldn't leave her friend there. What was she, a woman or a mouse? Turning back with renewed energy, Hannah limped faster back toward the clearing, but when she approached, she found it empty, but saw the direction Hermione had likely gone in, and the beaded bag was missing too. Moving frantically, she broke through the trees, and saw Hermione fall and tumble. She hobbled after her, but once she reached where Hermione would have stopped, didn't see her.

"There you are." Hannah whipped around to see Corner and Blaise. What if she was hallucinating? What if this was some grand trick by the pair, and they'd just lead Hannah to her death.

She felt a whimper rise up, like hot gas, escape with a squeak. Blaise picked up a rock, and Hannah closed her eyes.

THE GREEN GAMES

Hermione's eyes shot open. It was dark out, and she was sore all over. Why was she laying just under the ground? Why wasn't she on a blanket?

She sat up, but her head collided with the rest of the bush, and angrily, she rolled out from under it, feeling sore all over.

Her fingers brushed a rock, that even in the dim light, had some weird liquid dried on it…it looked like…blood-

It rushed back to her. Hermione frantically checked herself, but amazingly, it seemed as though nothing was broken or bleeding too badly or cut open. In, fact, it was miraculous, and her head felt so much clearer now, it was almost like magic.

"Hannah?" Hermione shot up, stumbling back, but didn't see her friend's body anywhere in the clearing. She did see a dried pool of blood, and Hermione's insides just tore up. She stuffed the cloak back into the bag and went back to the clearing, but Ernie's' body was gone too. There was no sign that Elizabeth had returned, and it was such a difference in the color of the sky since she'd fallen under that her cannon could have sounded too and Hermione would have never known it.

It was too much. Blindly, she ran. Hermione ran until she found a crooked tree root hollowed out, perfect for one person to fit under. Her whole body was shivering and shaking so bad that it took the most effort she'd had to produce in a long time to get first a protective barrier up, and then a silencer barrier. Keeping her wits, she crawled out, threw a rock hard at the tree, but heard no noise from inside, and crawled back in, content with her work.

And that was the point Hermione lost all her sanity. Her screams were ugly, they were mournful, and they were anguished. She screamed, clawing at her hair, feeling thick rivets of tears wet the ground underneath her. She pounded at the tree, kicked the ground, and grabbed her hair. Ernie was dead. Hannah was dead. Elizabeth was likely dead. It was a goddam miracle that Hermione wasn't dead, and that was the most unfair part about it all. It hadn't even been just a murder; it had been a slaughter today. And they'd merely been sitting ducks in a barrel, waiting for someone to attack them. They became cocky, the lost their sense of waiting for danger. They slipped up.

The price for their mistakes was heavy. And Hermione was left to deal with the grief alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit. Just. Got. Real.
> 
> And well, I know some of you guys will probably be extremely disappointed with the deaths in this chapter, but well, no one is safe. That's one of the things I actually like about writing this story. I can kill of main characters and it's pretty much completely in my parameters. :D So, an updated list of people that Hermione knows for sure is dead, or the list that she's pretty sure is alive.
> 
> SLYTHERIN: Pansy, Tracey, Daphne, Draco, Blaise, Corner
> 
> GRYFFINDOR: Hermione, Lavender, Ron, Seamus, Colin (-1)
> 
> RAVENCLAW: Corner, Duke, Caligula, Luna, Mandy, Elizabeth
> 
> HUFFLEPUFF: Justin, Leanne (-4)
> 
> Poor Hufflepuffs. :/ I swear in some of the next chapters, we're going to get some variety of other houses dying. Anyway, leave comments of what you think. If you're upset and want to swear at me, go ahead, I understand. I'm an awful person putting Hermione through this XD


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all should be very happy with this chapter. First off, it was SO LONG I decided to cut this day of the chapter in half. Literally, so much happens today that in this first half, we only reach a little after dawn of whatever day we're on. And if you're a Draco fan, you will LOVE this chapter. It's basically Draco-centric. Luckily, it means, that the next chapter- because it was already half written when I'm like, 'damn this is really long' is nearly completed. Yay :)
> 
> DRAMIONE NOTE: For all those asking if this is going to be a Dramione fic, when they're going to see each other, and ect YES THE END COUPLE IS HERMIONE/DRACO! BUT...she will be with someone else before she gets with Draco. How is this possible, in an arena of death, you ask? It is. But it has to happen for further bonding between Hermione/Draco. So...well, I don't think we're even half way done with the story. You'll see little hints all throughout leading up to it, but the actual stuff won't be for awhile. Besides, I personally like to think this story is so much more than just a relationship.

The first time that night that Hermione awakens, is to the sound of a cannon. But she's already so tired and so exhausted from being up all night, she's not quite sure if it's just her imagination. And besides, what's one more death, when all her friends are now dead? She just goes back to sleep, trying to ignore the bile that rises up in her throat.

But then, after that, her dreams are plagued with cannons ringing like a drum-line, and the fall of her friends in vivid, terrifying detail as if she hadn't already gone through each step a thousand times in her head before she fell asleep. The way Ernie's mouth filled with blood and it bubbled over, over spilling like a cup filled too high. She hears the minuscule gags he makes, before it's all over, and watches it over and over and over again until it's her there, watching the blood rise over her lips and drip onto her fingers.

Then, she sees Hannah, limping away, and realizes that Hannah hadn't listened to her and that she was coming back to save her. That if Hermione had done better, if Hannah hadn't felt the need to be a loyal friend, or if Hermione had just done her job and done away with Blaise and Corner right then, Hannah would still be alive. The cracking sound of the rock, the cannon, and the sound she makes when she hits the ground soon blend together to be the same noise.

And then there's Harry, as a ghost, standing over Hermione while she lays underneath the brush, shaking his head sadly.

You were supposed to protect them, he accuses, but you didn't. You were unprepared. You let yourself pretend you were somewhere you weren't. Hermione, how could you?

Even if it's just her imagination talking, Harry's words sting the worst.

And she thinks that somewhere watching, while in her dream, flinching underneath every accusation Harry flings her way, Fred is slowly shaking his head, for she remembers vividly the advice he gave to Ron- that he needed to go it alone, for the problem with allies, is soon you rely on them, and become weak.

But they had all relied on Hermione too much. Everyone thought she was some sort of god; Ernie's words in the training facility was that it would be stupid to ally with someone other than Hermione, because she was so talented. And now she realized that every time she turned, Elizabeth was watching her with deep concentration, as if she could somehow learn everything that Hermione had amassed in seven years in just a few days…but even Hermione had to admit that here, now, she didn't know what she was going to do. How did she not realize it sooner that she was supposed to be the shield over all of them, and whether or not she asked for it, she'd utterly failed?

The blood was not just on the hands of Blaise and Corner. The blood of her friends was dripping from her fingers too.

The second thing that woke Hermione was the weather. Her dream ended with the sound of a cannon, and the dream itself jerked Hermione from her sleep, and she was freezing. She touched her fingers gingerly to her lips, and realized with a jolt she couldn't feel them. She first stumbled blindly for her jacket, and the warmth of the thermal design warmed her instantly.

She peered from the tree to find the whole forest coated in a deep blanket of white, and the snow began to drift into her little haven. Hermione was now immediately glad she'd kept her coat, and recalled all those that had thrown it away before, for no doubt was this weather nasty enough to kill.

The hunger that roared inside of her forced her up. Regardless of the fact she had food, she had no water, and needed to go search for some. Even more so, this shelter was no longer useful, as it didn't very well block the frigid winds, and she needed to figure out a better place to-

To do what? Hermione found herself without reasons, suddenly, even less so than before. She pressed her lips together, as the thought of revenge entered her mind. Track down Blaise and Corner and then-

What? Kill them? Hermione shook her head; she couldn't succumb to that sort of violence. Could she? She made a deal with the devil in her head; she wouldn't go looking for them, but they'd better hope they never stumbled across her path.

The very pressing thought that tracks in the snow would be easy to follow, even with the flakes falling steadily, stumped Hermione for a few moments. Even wearing the invisibility cloak wouldn't help; it could lead someone straight to her. Eventually, with a couple tree branches, and a little easy spell work that made her fingers turn bright red with the cold, she fashioned a pair of snow-shoes for herself. It didn't completely fix the problem, but she no longer sank as far into the snow as she would have if she didn't have them. She just had to pray that the snow would cover her tracks soon enough.

Trekking through the forest in the snow once would have calmed her; winter was by far her favorite season. It was just so picturesque. But now, it made everything seem all the more uninviting.

She was about half an hour away from where she started when she realized the other con of snow; blood showed brightly on it, like a beacon for everyone within sight distance of where it lay. It was so colorful against this white overlay, and Hermione connected the blood splatters to the cannon that had woken her the first time in the morning.

She went to investigate, her morbid curiosity getting the better of her. Maybe, if it was Elizabeth, she just wanted to be sure. She knew that she'd regret it if she just passed it by without looking. The question would haunt her the rest of her time alive in the games about who it was.

She knelt down by the biggest gathered frozen pool of blood, noting the disruption in the otherwise perfectly even snowfall. Blowing on her fingers a couple times, she balled them into the sleeves of her jacket, and brushed at the slightly raised mound until she found a hand. Pushing back her revulsion, Hermione pulled the stiff body from the surface.

"Daphne…" Hermione let out a sigh of relief. The Slytherin's usually perfect face was covered in a thin layer of frost, and her lips were completely blue from the cold. It was pretty eerie, because none of her limbs were able to move, and therefore it was like Hermione had unearthed a life-size doll from the drift. On the back of her head was a large wound, closed over with a thin layer of ice and snow, which was the cause of the blood.

Hermione couldn't garner what did her in first; the wound, or the cold. It could be a combination of both. No one could last long in this weather with a gaping hole in her head. The shock of a dead person, especially someone Hermione had hated at Hogwarts, wasn't any less than any of the other times. Yet, she overcame it swiftly, and began to pat around for any weapons or useful items, but came up empty, and figured whoever had killed her must have cleaned her out.

Hermione left her sitting against a tree, in the hopes that she'd be able to be retrieved for her families, and kept walking.

THE GREEN GAMES

"Duke! Duke, do something!" Daphne's shrill cry made Duke visibly flinch up with annoyance, as he waded waste deep into the river, "It's getting away!"

"I see that, Greengrass…" Duke muttered, reaching out, flailing as he clawed for their food packs. A grand rush of water from the rapids area bombarded Duke and Daphne squealed as he went under. She rushed to the waters edge, dancing back and forth on her feet, watching with horror as all their provisions floated away.

"Duke!" She scolded when he finally got back onto land, spitting water out and coughing up the river, "It's gone!"

"And whose fault is that?" He demanded roughly, "If I recall you didn't get in the water to help at all and it was you who got the packs in the water in the first place!" He accused, glaring angrily at the girl, "For christsake."

"Excuse me?" Daphne put her hands on her hips, "I was the one who told you that if you made me carry them from the beginning, I'd probably lose them. I warned you."

Duke stared at her incredulously, "I thought you were joking! I didn't think you'd loose them for real!"

"Uggh," Daphne threw her hands up, "Men! Now we're without anything, and the cannons have already gone off, so someone probably from our group is back with Pansy eating something delicious like a whole steak or I don't know!"

"How can you be so sure it was from our group?" Duke questioned, shaking the water from his hair.

"Uh, the same day that Pansy orders a man-hunt we hear cannons? Obviously not a coincidence. I can do the math, Oakley." She said petulantly. Duke rolled his eyes.

"You don't say," He mumbled under his breath, earning a glare from Daphne.

"You know if I kill you know, I'll get food. You probably aren't worth much to Pansy anyway." She said, drawing a knife, snapping at him.

"Go ahead, princess. Freaking try. I'll shoot an arrow through your stomach quicker than you can throw that thing." He said, arming his bow and arrow, snarling in her direction. The pair looked at each other for a long couple of moments before Daphne backed down.

"Fine. We've established that ability to kill each other. You want to stay alive like me, so let's agree to not kill each other." She said, sliding her knife back into her boot. Duke gave a long sound in his throat, but put his weapons away.

"You're such an insufferable coward. I can't believe Pansy likes you at all." He said bitingly.

"I'm her friend!"

"Keep telling yourself that," He rolled his eyes, "Pansy isn't friends with anyone."

"Why did you even decide to come with me? This is pointless. I'm hungry." Daphne stalked away from him.

"Where are you going?" He called after her.

"To find something edible in this damn forest!" She called back, turning, "And if you want to be useful, maybe do the same."

"A wager?" Duke asked, and she paused, still turned away from him, "We meet back here, best food wins. The other shuts the hell up for the rest of the time we're around each other."

"First good idea you've said all day." Daphne smirked, and left him. Then, panic did set in a little. She had few ideas about how to hunt or what to find. She hadn't paid a ton of attention back in the classes before the games. She just thought she'd side with Pansy until the end. I mean, they were two different blood types. And Pansy totally owed her. Back in fourth year, Daphne had set her up with the boy she liked as a good friend (and because it was clear that this guy had zero interest in Daphne, which was totally crazy, but whatever) and she'd never cashed in the IOU Pansy had gushed about at the dance. Well now she was using it. It was keeping her alive, she was sure.

Well that probably wasn't' true. Duke was useless, but Pansy hadn't killed him yet. No, that IOU would get her out of the games, if Pansy were still rambling on about wanting to be the sole winner. She meant it would be awful press if Daphne brought that up and Pansy still killed her.

She stumbled around for a couple hours, cussing angrily at herself for getting into this position. She knew how to kill people, sure but they were so obviously there! Did she know how to kill a bird or something? Uhh, no…they flew away whenever she tried to get close. Her hunger grew as she walked, until the point where she was feeling a little faint.

She breathed, feeling spit come up her throat, and let it dribble out onto the grass, but it was thick and bitter. Merlin, she was hungry. Her fingers brushed the tree bark. It had been hours. She hadn't seen anything worth killing, but right now, she'd eat a squirrel raw. Could she eat bark? Was bark edible? She eyed the tree hungrily.

There was a loud crack behind her, and dazed, Daphne turned. The sky was turning dark, and it was sort of hard to see…or that might just be because her vision was swimming and everything looked so good.

She had the good sense to press herself lower into the ground, and saw a person stumble through the brambles. Huh, she thought lazily, someone probably looking for food too.

Then it hit here; here was a person, unaware of her, that wasn't someone from her side. If she killed this person…

…Daphne could get food.

The way her mouth began to water drove her crazy as it was, and slowly Daphne eased from her place. The person, it was a young girl- Eliza was it? Not that it mattered- was clearly not paying attention to anything, and just stumbling through the forest like an idiot.

Daphne crept up from behind. "Shhh…" She said as she grabbed one of her arms, her other hand snaking around to clasp a tight grip over the girl's mouth, "This will only take a second," She assured as she tried to grab the knife from her boot without loosing the girl.

The girls screamed and kicked against her grip, biting hard down on her hand.

"Ow!" Daphne cried, and let go of her grip before she realized, and the girl ran. Daphne cussed herself for being so stupid as to fall for that, and grabbed her knife from her boot. With one shot, one perfected shot, she hit the girl just above her shoulders, and she fell like a tree.

Advancing with pleasure, Daphne wondered what feasts Pansy would have for them back at camp. The girl was whimpering on the ground, and every time she tired to move, Daphne could almost see the lighting shocks of pain racing through her shoulder. The knife wasn't in there deep, but it did a well enough job of keeping her on the ground. Daphne placed one foot on her back, digging her deep into the mud with a wicked smile.

"If you didn't run, dear, you wouldn't have felt a thing." Daphne informed her, her fingers reaching down to grab the knife from her, but there was rustling from behind her.

Daphne spun around, tearing the knife out to protect herself, and ignoring the scream of pain from the girl, expecting the worse. But when she saw who it was, her shoulders slumped in relief.

"Oh, it's just you."

THE GREEN GAMES

Draco was fairly bored with himself. It was two days since the spiders attacked, and not even a flutter of danger. He lay on the ground, sighing and looking up at the sky. He almost missed the note that fluttered down to him until it brushed his nose. Sitting up, and stretching, he unfurled the small slip of paper. It was from his father. He was confused with the sudden middle of day notice; it was of something importance, clearly.

"Pansy's on the hunt. Watch yourself." He read out loud, and then scowled, standing swiftly. He wondered when Pansy would start hunting people down. Honestly he hoped the game makers would keep them busy enough to not need it to come down to this, but he understood. If he were more monstrous, without anything else to do, it would be the most obvious choice.

He knew his father wanted him to stay in, likely, but the idea of stopping Pansy before things got awful was just too tempting. He stepped back into his cave, grabbed a bag of simple foods and medicine, and a knife, which he started to sharpen against a rock. He was almost done when a long and terrified scream followed a sound of a canon.

He winced, standing. The scream sounded young. Childish. He was guessing it was Elizabeth. But the scream had come after a cannon, meaning she was still alive. He paused for a moment, before diving back into his notes, confirming a twinge a fear that had inched its way into his head.

Elizabeth was currently an ally with Hermione, Ernie, and Hannah.

Elizabeth was with Hermione.

The bile that rose in his throat was unprecedented, and something in his veins pushed him forward suddenly, and urgency to reach wherever she was. He didn't understand it, but he also didn't mind it. It was reasonable for him to be afraid for one of his best chances at winning, a person whose death would be utterly a loss for the world.

"Sorry dad," he murmured under his breath, "I'm finding them."

He reacted and based his direction solely on the direction of the scream, which wasn't the best option, but the farther he stepped, the more he heard screaming and yelling and fighting.

Draco reached a ragged clearing first. He spotted a body laying on the edge, and jumped across. It was the strong Hufflepuff boy, Ernie. He didn't even bother checking for a pulse, for he ran his fingers apologetically down the deep cut in his back, sighing as he followed it all the way up to his face, stained from the chin down with his own blood.

Draco sucked in a deep, gasping breath at the inhumanity of it, and gently closed the eyelids.

"Your fight is over." He murmured softly, before standing. He titled his head to hear the sounds of screaming still continuing. Cutting through the trees swiftly, he ducked down when he saw Blaise and Corner sitting in a small area where trees were absent, laughing about something.

Creeping closer, he noticed a body on the ground instantly. Draco wasn't squeamish; he'd seen a ton. But this body was mangled almost beyond recognition. She'd been mauled so horrendously that it made his insides twist with betrayal at the thought his former best friend was capable of such awful destruction.

But their focus was not there, on the person lying there. They were focusing on something else.

Damn whatever it was, Draco had seen enough. His shaking fingers fumbled for a moment, tearing off a little ball and carefully rolling it in his palm, cautious to not break it quite yet.

Without another moment to spare, Draco stepped into the clearing.

"Hello, boys."

Corner and Blaise jumped around at Draco's voice, both pointing sharp objects near his face immediately. Draco was not concerned. He casually stepped from their bounds, "I would appreciate it very much if you'd get the hell away from here."

"And get our kills?" Corner demanded, "No way! These are ours." He growled.

"Please, I'm hardly interested in that. Honestly, I'm just disgusted by your very sight and think I'll barf if I stand her a second more." He said, and glared at Blaise, "To do this? Really?" He motioned to the body behind him. At least Blaise had the decency to hang his head a bit, almost in shame, but Corner just jutted his chin out.

"What are you going to do about it?" He demanded haughtily, a tone that Draco found incredibly irritating.

A gust of wind carried itself toward the boys, and Draco crushed the bead, letting the fine fibers jump onto the current, and onto the skin and clothes.

"A little fairy dust?" Corner barked with laughter, "Merlin, Draco, I didn't know you swung for the other team?"

"Gods, you're an imbecile." Draco shook his head in disbelief, "If you'd paid a smidgen of attention to the class, you would know this pollen is from a flower that- when makes contact with skin- creates nasty rashes and pus-oozing boils. They become unbearably itchy and people have been known to have bleed out from the obsession for getting underneath the scabs." He said, "Of course, the only way to remedy it is water. And, if I'm correct, there's a river back that way. You won't make it nearly in time to stop it, or the itching should begin," Draco looked at his wrist for a watch that wasn't there, "Now."

Right on cue, Corner's eyes widened and his fingers began to rove up and down his arm.

"Shite, mate. He's right!" He cried, eyes wide, "It's getting worse!"

Blaise gave a strangled cry as he clasp his fists tight to keep from itching, but it only took a glance at each other to abandon their ground and run like little scared boys to the river.

"Idiots." Draco sighed, rolling his eyes.

If they had paid a little more attention, they would also know Draco was lying. Water was in fact what started the itching and the boils. The itching they thought they felt? Purely psychological. It was moments like this Draco truly appreciated the finer moments of the fallacy of humans.

Would they die form these? Well, it would be a welcomed bonus, but Draco doubted it. Unfortunately, even with the water to start up their symptoms, it only lasted about twenty-four-hours before the urges vanished, and another day for the boils and rashes to disappear to. Yet, he was fairly sure it would keep them occupied for that day, a whole day in between him here and where he'd be tomorrow.

If he didn't notice them by the bush earlier, Draco may have missed it. The pale hand sticking from the brambles, and at first, that was all he saw and a sense of dread rose in body, for he thought that a hand was all that was left of Hermione Granger. Or that she was stumbling around somewhere, probably bleeding away, one hand less.

But then he noticed a peculiar shimmer just above. Feeling stupid, he reached out, and was shocked when his fingers connected with what felt like fabric. Drawing it up, he realized that, if put on just right, you were completely invisible.

"Bloody hell, Potter." He gave a slow shake of his head and a laugh. It had to be his. How else could he have evaded so much punishment in their first couple years at Hogwarts? But that was not the concern. The concern was Hermione, and when he dragged her from where it seemed she'd landed and been too exhausted to leave from, the extent of the damage on her was more than he'd expected.

She was out cold, which was no surprise, because she seemed pretty pale and Draco could only assume she'd lost a lot of blood somewhere down the line.

She had a lot of little scars, just beads of blood hardly reaching the surface, which he spent no more than a couple seconds on each. She had a recovering wound on her shoulder from a battle past, which, to his approving nod, seemed to have been bandaged well enough, and he would come back to it if he got the chance.

There were two more recent battle scars on her front. The first was obvious to anyone who could see her; thick and ugly purple bruises forming in the shape of fingers around her neck. Draco knew without even matching his own fingers to it that it was Blaise's fingers; it was just one of those things he knew from years of being a companion to the Italian. And that's what made him the angriest.

There was also a fresh cut across her cheekbone where the hilt of some weapon had hit her, and a small bump on the side of her head where someone had beat her again, and he feared that she had a concussion. Rifling through his bag, he applied a salve to her cheek, used a little bit of magic to vanish the bruises around her neck (for no one should have to have a reminder of something like that) and uncorked a potion, dripping small amounts down into her lips.

With any luck, the potion would alleviate the symptoms of the concussion, if she had one, and hopefully begin to heal it from the inside, but those were just theories. He didn't know if he was giving her the correct dosage or even if this was what she needed and he wasn't hurting her even more.

Finally, sensing that the biggest wound was yet to be seen, he rolled her onto his back and immediately clasp a hand over his mouth to stop form gagging at the smell. There was a long scar- spell made, for even the most basic of healers could recognize the remnants of the magical signature-that seemed to partner with a curse that began to eat away the place where it hit. If not bad enough that there was a gaping hole between her shoulder blades where infected blood was still drizzling out, the skin around it was blackened with some awful disease.

Putting aside moral and gentlemanly obligations, Draco lifted her shirt up until it was rested at her neck, leaving him with the open canvas to work. It wasn't like he was going to grope her or take a peek at anything in front, for Merlin's sake, but he did need to have the most area to work with this. He was sure, that in her own biting and strong-willed way, she might thank him if she was awake to comment.

He rubbed down his face with dread for a couple seconds; utterly mystified on how to fix it. He hadn't come across such complicated wounds yet in his training, and this, well, Draco couldn't even muster one guess at what the original spell was. It was dark, he gathered that much, but there were thousands of evil curses just like there were thousands of good ones.

Draco eased back on his haunches, running his through his hair. He checked her pulse; it was still steady. She didn't seem to be waning, but the idea of leaving her to go back to his cave concerned him greatly. Who knew what this spell was doing to the inside of her? The thought that he might leave and she might soon be another cannot shot in the sky unnerved him much too more for his liking. And he couldn't carry her, not in this state.

He took another long and wandering over the wound. It was about the size of his palm. He figured that the best and most basic way to deal with any wound was to disinfect and kill whatever harmful bacteria was eating away at her.

He had to use basically his whole liquid, homemade disinfectant on her, and could had probably done with another bottle, but from the sizzle it made and the slight masking of the smell, he knew it was doing it's job. He gave a grin at Hermione, shaking his head.

"Be bloody grateful you're out cold for this one, Granger." He told her as he watched the disinfectant work its way through the wound, "Because it would hurt like all hell." He assured.

Once it was done, the wound looked significantly healthier, although it was far from being healed. The blood that seeped from it now looked the normal shade, and was the right consistency, which unfortunately was making a mess of her back. But cleaning it up now would be useless, for he was sure that more of this wound would be opened before it was healed.

"Now, onto the skin," He murmured to himself, gently touching the blackish-green places around the wound.

And he continued on like this for Merlin knows how long. It was painstakingly slow; he eventually was forced to use wandless magic, and the healing use of it was almost as hard as a really complicated spell, and Draco had to take long breaks to eat and nap (with one eye open, figuratively) to be able to sustain the healing of Ms. Hermione Granger.

He had just placed a self-adhesive bandage over the wound, and it naturally healed from its side, and would take either healer magic or something awful to take it off.

Now he had to take Hermione back to his den. Leaving her by herself would be foolish. She probably had no idea what happened to her either, or the ramifications, and as much as he hoped that she might just lay low after this, danger followed Hermione Granger around like a moth followed a flame. Try as she might to blame it on her male companions her first couple years, Hermione contracted just as much trouble as those two all on her own. He wondered if it was something about being a Gryffindor?

He was staring at her quizzically, trying to figure out if the best route was to wake her now or carry her back when a scream pierced through the sky.

"Awe…shit." Draco sighed. As much as he wanted to ignore it, it was the girl again. And he wasn't going to let someone as young as her die an awful death- most likely at the hands of the now confirmed psychopathic Blaise or Corner- when he was inches away.

And, he looked at Hermione with a wry smile; he supposed he was in the business of saving lives now. He re-covered her with the invisibly cloak, just for safety.

"I'll be right back." He said, although he doubted Hermione heard him.

Sprinting through the trees, his backpack bouncing against his back with a newfound lack of weight of his supplies, he skirted around shrubs, ducked under branches, and all but almost skidded into the clearing where Elizabeth was.

Daphne was standing above her, one boot on her back, a knife in her hand, as she glared at him.

"Oh, it's just you." She relaxed visibly as Draco appeared, and Draco fought back a snaky comment. If she thought at all that he and her were on the same level of anything, she was sorely mistaken.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, hissing at her in disgust.

"Getting food." She said, "Pansy says that we can't come back and get our food until we kill someone and I lost my pack and Draco I'm so hungry! And besides, I mean, it's the point of the game!" She said, as if it was all very casual and not at all something awful she was about to do. She stated it as if she was explaining to him the choice to paint a room blue instead of yellow.

"She's just thirteen." Draco shook his head, "She's nothing more than a child, Daphne!"

"I'm not going to fucking torture her, she won't feel a thing! I'll make it quick." Daphne said, "I'm surprised she lasted this long at all."

Draco gave an unconscious lick of his lips, glancing at the girl on the ground, "She was traveling with Granger." He said in a low tone.

"Ew." Daphne flicked the knife around her fingers, "You know, I can tell Pansy we both killed her! Pansy will be so pleased you're coming back, and then we can both eat." The girl beamed at her idea, but Draco wanted to punch the smile off her face.

He advanced until he was at an arm's length away, and waited until then to shake his head. "I'm not coming back to Pansy." He said.

Daphne pouted. "Shame. She really misses you! Oh, well…" Daphne said, turning back around, completely unaware of Draco, who gave a swift jab to her stomach. Daphne crumpled, sucking as the wind left her in a breath, glaring at Draco with wide eyes.

"She's just going to be killed some other time, Draco!" She gasped out between gulps of air.

"I'm sorry, Daph. I won't let you kill her."

A darkened glimmer sunk into her eyes. "If you're not with me," She whispered in a throaty drawl, "Then obviously you're against me. Pansy won't even have to know how you died." She said, and leapt up for surprising speed of a girl who was starved and not very bright.

Draco ducked her punches and kicks, scrambling back, trying to think of how to end this fight without unnecessary bloodshed.

It came up all blanks. The rest of his magic pods, which he thought he'd packed, were clearly back at the campsite, and couldn't pull a stunt with her like he'd used with Blaise and Corner. He was out of options.

And clearly out of luck, as he stumbled back against a tree-stump. Taxed from his previous session with Hermione, Draco could see the trajectory of the knife even before it left her fingers.

But it's a good thing Daphne was a bigger idiot than the boys he'd encountered.

The knife sunk up to the hilt at his chest, exactly over his heart, if it had been on the proper side. It was a small miracle, except for the fact that it really, really hurt. It would only be a moment before she realized her mistake, and then he was done for.

His fingers groped behind him, and his fingers curled around a long tree-branch. Using whatever strength and leverage he had, he brought it up in one swift motion, hitting Daphne squarely across the head with it.

The cracking sound it made was unexpected, as was the blood that welled, and the fact that Draco hadn't thought he'd had that much strength in him.

Terror and regret surged through his body as he saw her crumple, and he crawled forward to her, ignoring the searing pain of the knife still wedged in his side, and touched her face. His whole body was quivering.

"Shit, Daphne. I didn't-please, I never…." He blubbered incoherently, but his apology was cut off by the sound of the cannon. Draco slumped in disbelief almost to the ground, staring at her corpse.

"I didn't mean to kill her." He said out loud, to no one in particular. How could he? He'd made a promise to himself, and he'd already broken it. And she'd been a longtime friend. He was frankly sickened at it. There could have been another way, a different route, if he had just a moment more to think.

He was stunned into motionless, until he heard the soft whimpering of Elizabeth on the ground still. He got up, and it may have been his imagination, but he felt a cold chill run up his back, as he walked over to her.

At the sight of him, Elizabeth tried to get up.

"Hey, you're going to kill yourself." He said, leaning down, wincing as his body bent painfully around the knife.

"Better than you!" She spit back at him, and Draco gave a soft shake of his head.

"I'm not going to kill you. I want to help you, actually." He said, and Elizabeth glared at him.

"Why should I trust you?" She demanded smartly.

"Well, I just killed Daphne," Draco began, and Elizabeth sneered at him.

"So?"

"We're both Slytherins you know. Didn't you hear what I was trying to tell her?" He asked.

"Trying to get her to leave me so I could be your kill, you mean?" Elizabeth asked dully, biting her lip against a sharp stab of pain.

"I healed Hermione, if that helps."

At the mention of her previous ally, Elizabeth's head shot up.

"Hermione?" Her tone was filled with relief, "She's alive?"

Draco nodded, "Pretty banged up, but I healed her. I was going to take her back to where I have better supplies when I heard you screaming. What can I do to make you trust me?"

There was a moment, a time where Draco could literally see the indecision playing past her eyes. Elizabeth locked her jaw.

"Nothing," She began, and Draco's heart dropped, "But…I can hardly move. So I guess, I have to." She said.

Draco gave a sharp nod.

"If you can, see what Daphne had on her. Any useful items." Draco said, for he could not bring himself to do it, "I'm going back to get Hermione, okay? Stay here. I doubt anyone else will be around."

"Okay…" Elizabeth agreed in a small voice.

Draco's legs felt like lead as he walked back to the camp. The instant regret of Daphne's death weighed heavily on him. It was night and dark, like the sky itself was casting judgment on him.

When he arrived back at the place he'd left her, neither body was anywhere to be found. There were no tracks of use to him, and Draco bit his tongue to restrain a frustrated cry from expelling from his lips. Why couldn't Hermione just not be such a Gryffindor for once?

He went back, and found Elizabeth waiting for him.

"Hermione's gone." He said bluntly, and was shocked that Elizabeth just hummed in agreement.

"Wherever Hermione woke up, she wouldn't stay there." Elizabeth said, shrugging, "I'm not surprised."

"Any idea where she would go?" Draco asked. Elizabeth scrunched her nose.

"None."

Draco nodded again. "Jolly good." He said sarcastically.

A bit of coldness brushed against his head, and he looked up, expecting rain. Instead, he saw snow. Thick, heavy, snowflakes. Elizabeth noticed them too.

"It's going to get really cold with that." She said wisely. Draco agreed, but looked back at the forest for another moment, nodding quietly.

"We'd better get back." He said, and helped Elizabeth to her feet. Her fingers touched the hilt of the knife still in his body.

"Should I take this out?" She questioned, but Draco swatted her hand away.

"Merlin, no. If you did, I'd likely bleed out long before we got back. It might be the only thing keeping me alive right now." He said, "I'll fix you, then myself. Besides," He said in a light wheeze, trying not to focus on the lights bursting behind his eyes, "Hardly feel it." He assured gruffly.

He could tell Elizabeth clearly did not believe him.

By the time they returned to where his hut was, the snow had covered the ground and nested in both of their hair. Draco drew his fingers along the line of blood seeping from Elizabeth's wound, and did a quick spell to work it into the protection barrier. He was fairly sure that even when she was healed, she wasn't gong to kill him.

In fact, it hardly looked like she could hurt much of anyone.

Inside, Elizabeth shivered at the chill, and Draco lit a fire. Elizabeth's eyes bulged.

"Is that wise?" She asked, "People will see the smoke."

"Everyone's going to be too cold to deal with hunting with this weather." Draco said, glad that his protective circle worked as a shield against the elements. To someone who didn't know it was there, it was almost as if the snow kindly stopped just before the entrance. Snow packed along the edges, "Now, let's take a look."

Elizabeth's wound was hardly deep, and only required the simplest of fixings; anti-infection potion, a little numbing, and a bit of surgical tape to keep it together for a good heal. He insisted on looking her over, and used a simple- but effective- spell to see injuries. The color that came back was totally unexpected, and he noted the way Elizabeth tensed when he looked at it.

"You know that you have-,"

"Don't say it." Elizabeth's hook her head in a swift jab, "No one here knows. I don't want them too. It doesn't change things." She said in a tone of false bravery.

Draco scowled, looking her up and down. "I'd say it very well does. How are you strong enough to do much of anything?"

"Potion. But I can fear it wearing off. Soon…" Elizabeth licked her lips nervously, "Never mind. Shouldn't you fix yourself?" She questioned, skillfully drawing the attention away from her.

"Aye," Draco agreed. He already knew the damage, "Are you fine with blood? Not squeamish?" He questioned. Elizabeth gave a slow shake of her head.

"Good." Draco nodded, and handed her a thick cloth, "When I pull it out, immediately press it to my open wound, hard. You hear me?" He demanded. Elizabeth looked at the cloth, then to him.

"Okay." She swallowed.

Draco sloshed a bit of alcohol on the cloth, zand then soaked a needle in a puddle of it for a couple moments, before he brought it closely to the flame. Elizabeth gave a thin squeak.

"Am I going to have to-,"

"Merlin no. I don't trust anyone to do this but myself." Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. He carefully treaded the needle, not thinking about how he'd be doing it to himself, not just a random person. He set it on his leg carefully, and then raised both his hands to the hilt of the blade.

"Are you ready?" He asked her, and Elizabeth gave a determined nod. Carefully, as not to jostle or wound any other vital organs, Draco eased the knife to a place where he was sure it was out of the way of further danger. Then, before he talked himself out of it, he ripped it out.

Elizabeth pressed the cloth to him instantly, and he felt her small hands apply more force than he thought she had. He wheezed for a couple moments, fighting against the wave of dizziness that overcame his brain. Elizabeth's press didn't waver.

"You'd make a fair healer in another life." Draco informed her, and she gave him a tentative grin.

She held it there until the white fabric was soaked with blood, and then Draco gently drew her fingers down, just showing the top of the open wound.

"Aren't you going to put some numbing medicine there?" She asked. He gave her a weak smile.

"Fresh out." He shrugged, and he saw Elizabeth's eyes widen as he pulled the thread through his skin and back again.

They worked tediously like this. Draco wincing against the pinpricks of pain as he stitched himself back up, her moving the cloth down centimeter by centimeter as he reached where the cloth held the rest of the blood in. Sweat beaded on his brow, both from concentration and from the overwhelming amount of pain. It was perhaps one of the most glorious moments of his life when he reached the end, tied it off nicely, and threw down the needle.

"Should I go and clean this and wipe away the blood?" Elizabeth asked. Draco gave a slow, aching nod. He hardly heard her return until she was pressing an icy-cold rag against his soften skin.

"How does it look?" Draco asked from his position on the ground, rubbing his eyes.

"Done very professionally." Elizabeth assured him, "If you make it out alive, at least it won't be an ugly scar." She assured. Draco gave a short scoff of laughter.

"I'm sure your starved. I mean I might as well thank you. You didn't have to." He said, rolling over cautiously and reaching around for a can of soup.

"You saved my life." Elizabeth stated quietly.

"I guess I did." Draco agreed, and neither of them spoke for a long while. Not until the food was cooked, and they each slurped and chewed the meat in the broth with care.

"So what happened?" Draco finally asked, "In the clearing?"

Elizabeth's hand shook at the question. "Ernie left to go hunting. He came back late. And just told me to run, or started, and then a sword went through his chest, and he was coughing up blood and then he just…died." She gave breathed in deeply, "Hermione told me to run. I screamed, I just couldn't help it. So I did. I just saw Blaise, and Corner chased me, but he gave up eventually. I climbed a tree. Hid awhile." She said, "And I was trying to find someone when Daphne attacked me…" She looked down with shame.

She talked, more just kept talking for sake of talking, for a while more. It was one peculiarity that stuck out to him more than most. Draco wasn't all too sensitive to certain things, and he was a blunt man, and therefore he asked his question straight on to the young girl.

"You seem very…well, fond, of Ernie. Did you know him at all before this, even?" He asked. Perhaps, to someone else, they would have been too overcome by grief, he realized. But he saw strength in the young girl as she shrugged.

"No. 'Course not. He was five years above me. We all knew the seventh year names, not many of you left, but I doubt he knew mine at all. I don't think we talked at all before this." She said, her eyes widening.

"Then…I don't understand. It seems he particularly protected you."

"I don't understand it much either," Elizabeth said, running her fingers cautiously through her hair, biting her lip, "We all got reaped and from then on, he protected me. Invited me to eat with him, taught me things, he was the one that pushed me into the alliance with he and Hermione too. I still can't figure it out. I never got the chance to ask. Maybe he was just a nice guy, you know. In the games, I thought it might stop, but he was always cautious about me. Gave me extra food, made sure I was warm enough, stayed up with me on my night shifts to keep me company even though he was exhausted. Some girls would look at this and maybe have a crush on him, but Merlin, I never saw it that way. It was like he was my guardian angel."

A crestfallen look crossed her face; "I think…maybe he just saw me for what I honestly am." She whispered, drawing her legs up to her chest, watching the flickering fire, "Thirteen years old. Terrified, pretty much useless, and completely vulnerable." She murmured hoarsely.

"That's bull." Draco scoffed, "If you were all those things, you would have been dead long before now."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I doubt it. He was protecting me up until he died, and now you, sort of. I mean, if you hadn't come along, I would have died. I was stupid enough to run into Daphne, for Merlin's sake." She said, her whole body shaking with shame.

"You just watched someone you life die in front of your eyes." Draco swallowed thickly, "That would fuck anyone's mind up for a long time." He admitted, "I think you're much more powerful than you imagine. At the very least, most people think you're helpless, so you'll be able to surprise them and kick their unprepared asses."

Elizabeth gave a tiny smile, and yawned. Draco sighed, looking outside. It was almost dawn.

"I'll wake you at sunrise." Draco said softly, "You deserve some rest before you go."

"Thanks." Elizabeth murmured, and before he could say anything else, she had fallen asleep, curled up in a ball next to the fire. Draco poked it with a stick a couple times to keep it going, wondering why on earth a seventh-year Hufflepuff would be so engrossed in keeping a third-year Ravenclaw alive? Even if she was thirteen, she claimed they didn't know each other at all in Hogwarts. It frankly mystified him.

Just an hour or so before dawn, he got another letter. He opened it, and found it to be a transcription of something that had happened the day previous, the day he found Hermione and healed her. His eyes widened as he read it; Ernie was Elizabeth's uncle. Well, it certainly explained a lot.

His father had sent it, saying that the parents of course had been interviewed after that aired and all, claiming that they never knew and didn't need their children to know. Which was stupid; Draco was quite sure that his father had sent him this transcript for a reason. Not so Draco's questions would be answered, but because Elizabeth had a right to know. Here, her parents had no power. It wasn't up to them, not if he had this. He felt a little for her, and looked at her sleeping form, sighing.

It might hurt her to realize she'd had family in here the whole time, and now he was dead, but on the other hand, he imagined how awful it would be to just never find that out. To wander around until her death, because she wasn't making it out of the area- something they both knew for circumstances stronger than the games- and always question why Ernie was so kind to her. It might help with closure, to realize that Ernie was a really good guy. On one hand, he had never even been worried about himself for one second…it was all for her, Elizabeth, and that was probably the most noble thing Draco had seen since Hermione had volunteered for that first-year. But it also showed him to be a worthy man of admiring…he had the chance to kill Hermione and assure her place in the finals (He didn't know, Draco realized, what Elizabeth had asked him not to say out loud) but he didn't because there was some smidgen of loyalty in his bones to a person that had protected him.

He woke Elizabeth just as the sky was turning light. She put her coat on, and he put a piece of toast in front of her. She raised an eyebrow at it, for of course you couldn't hunt bread in the games, but didn't question too much. When she had finished, she stood.

"I can't thank you enough. I don't know how to." She said. Draco was tempted to place and IOU on her, but then shook his head. She would have enough to deal with soon enough.

"Just…stay alive a bit longer. Show 'em, Corner and Blaise." He said. Elizabeth blushed a bit, "And wait…I have this for you." He said, and handed her back the envelope, sealed with tree-bark. She went to open it, but Draco paused her.

"Don't open it until you're ready. It's about Ernie. But, well I'd do it soon. One can never sure when they'll die. You'll want to know this, I promise." He said.

"That's cryptic." Elizabeth said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You'll see when you read it." He said. Elizabeth nodded, almost going to open it right there (which Draco didn't want to happen, because she'd probably start crying, and he was shit with dealing with crying girls), but in the end, she didn't.

Then she just walked off, into the snow.

Draco was sure that some form of a howler might be sent to him from her parents soon enough, but Elizabeth- in this place dying- had a right to know. What was the worst they could do? Send poison down? Yeah, that would be real adult of them. He scoffed. They were idiots if they thought that keeping that scene from their son and daughter was the right choice.

He had just settled down to eat a hearty breakfast and planned on restocking what he could in the snow from his healing the day before when someone stumbled into the clearing near his hut. After overcoming his initial shock at the person- who still had little idea that he was there, thanks to his protective barrier- he set down his own toast with a laugh, examining the bloody wounds all over them that clearly needed medical help.

"I guess I'm the official doctor now." He said, standing and wiping the crumbs away, before bracing to reveal himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that for an intense chapter huh? WHOOT!
> 
> Btw, I did steal the 'your fight is over' from the AMAZING show 100. My god, the season final just aired yesterday and I'm a mess after it. It's more intense than this fanfiction. Like, seriously. If you're looking for an amazing TV show that will upset you and make you happy at the same time, make you change opinions of characters at the drop of a hat, but mostly leave you crying on the floor over the characters, check it out. Season 1 is free on Netflix!
> 
> I recently did my own art-work for this! I haven't down traditional art in SOOOO long but it was awesome. Keep checking back on my profile. Link to it on dA will be up soon!
> 
> Just taking two mins out of your day to write a review will make an author happy for the next 24 hours :)
> 
> If you follow me into other lands of fanfiction, I'm continuing to update 'Omphalos' and if you're a Jelsa fan, I have begun a new fanfiction to replace Omphalos when it finishes in about a month!
> 
> The Alive List:  
> GRYFFINDOR: Seamus, Colin, Ron, Hermione, Lavender (-1)  
> SLYTHERIN: Draco, Blaise, Pike, Pansy, Tracey (-1)  
> Hufflepuff: Justin, Leanne (-4)  
> Ravenclaw: Corner, Caligula, Duke, Luna, Mandy, Elizabeth (-0)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this, along with every other fanfiction of mine, is LONG overdue for a new chapter. But I never thought my spring break would be so busy! It really was! This is literally the fist time I've used my laptop in five days XD
> 
> Also, just a warning. This is probably the most graphic chapter to date. But all of yalls reading this seem to like or expect that so...yep. Just saying!

Harry walked with Hermione. She knew exactly which part of her dreamed him up too. It wasn't dehydration; no. She'd found a stream frozen over a couple inches thick with ice, which had to be the game-makers ploy, as ice just didn't freeze so quickly. She'd broken it with a stone and drank it, although it froze her from the inside. She'd re-filled her canteen and went on her way.

It wasn't food either. Although everything tasted like cardboard, she shoved a bar or two of granola long before Harry's careful steps ghosted beside her. The bars hit the bottom of her stomach with a dull feeling, like pebbles hitting the end of a well. It sat there, holding fear and agony like a sponge, as Hermione recalled every time the taste of them surfaced to her tongue that her friends wouldn't be eating this ever again.

No, Harry was a figment of some delusion figure of her imagination, some psychological part of her that summoned her friend here. Oh, and Hermione knew Harry wasn't really here. She was sure she could vanish him away with the slightest thought of it at any moment, but really? Hermione wanted, no needed him here, no matter if all his answers were theoretically her own mind thinking.

She couldn't really describe what he looked like. Every time she thought she got a good look at him, his imagine shimmered and dissipated like mist. It wasn't thirteen year old Harry, his death state, but it wasn't a seventeen-year old Harry either, but somewhere horribly trapped in between. Hermione regarded this to the fact that in her own mind, she wasn't quite sure how Harry would look today, but always imagined him a great deal older than what he looked like in their third year. His voice was young and old at the same time, but it did not disturb her, but comforted her. It was a oddly soothing mix of her memories before this horror, and of a future yet to come that she clung to with desperation like nothing else.

An hour or two ago, she'd thrown the invisibility cloak over her shoulders for the mere prayer of extra warmth, as her fingers clasp onto the fabric with vigor, pulling it tighter against her body. On the positive side, she figured, that no one would have to see her talking to herself because no one could film her like this. Oh, well, those game makers must be having a field day with this.

"You should eat." Harry murmured, and Hermione shook her head sharply to one side.

"No," she gasp out, even though she felt her stomach grumble softly, "I…I'm fine."

"Hermione." Harry suppressed a sigh, and Hermione braced herself against a chill, "You ate hours ago. We've walked probably half the arena. You need to eat to stay alive." He pleaded.

"Why though?" Hermione whispered hoarsely, "Why should I be allowed to live? They all died, Harry. I'm the only one left. Why me."

"Because I don't want to meet you in the afterlife yet." He said, and it was something so utterly Harry, something that maybe even Hermione couldn't come up with in her subconscious, she felt her knees sink into the ground.

"Are you here, Harry? Are you real?" She breathed, "Harry, I can't do this. I don't want to do this."

"You had a choice Hermione. I did not." Harry said stiffly, and when she swung around, the vision of him was gone.

Hermione wasn't going to spend time trying to figure out if it was he or not, but his words rocked her to the core.

He never had this choice to be in these games. He never had a chance. His magic was so juvenile still at that time, so underdeveloped that it's no surprise that he…

Hermione felt something coming up her throat and retched onto the snow. The delirium of hunger clawed at her stomach, and Hermione crawled to a tree, pressing herself against it, pulling her knees up so her whole body fit underneath the cloak.

"I'll eat." She said to no one, "I don't want to die yet."

It was the truth. As awful as she felt, the idea of dying, the idea that even for a moment she'd questioned everything was revolting to her. She had to preserve, for Hannah or Ernie or Elizabeth and for Artemis, who she had made a promise to. Hermione did not intend on breaking promises.

The overwhelming thought of sleep was so poignant that she couldn't help but falter a bit. It came like a wave, the idea of just closing her eyes and opening it up to a brighter and warmer tomorrow was tantalizing. For one moment she wanted everything to just stop. The world to stop moving, time to stand still, to just have one moment to breath in without an acute sense of poison following on her every breath. Yet, at the same time she wanted time to spin faster and faster around on the axis of itself until she was decades away from here, in a better time when maybe Voldemort was dead and she was free from it all. The two sides battled in such vigorous clashing that it hurt her head.

She saw a tree with a low-hanging branch and two sides poking out to form a slight 'V' that looked like the perfect spot to sleep. Recalling all her adventures of climbing the highest oaks in her aunt and uncle's backyard, she gripped herself around the bark of the tree and shoved herself up until she balanced her legs across the divide.

"Rope." Hermione whispered to herself with a sharp realization, and hung her bag over a branch slightly above, digging until she uncovered the thick rope and spent the next hour or so carefully weaving it between the branches until she made a net or hammock, what have you may, to sleep and rest upon, safely above the ground in the foliage of tree leaves that seemed too confused by the sudden change of weather to fall.

She took out the first set of sleeping materials, laying the sleeping bag across it, and felt a deep twinge of sadness as she took the second. She felt so guilty using both of them when there were obviously others in the arena that were likely freezing by this point, yet Hermione ground herself against the thought. At this point, she'd lose by caring too much. It was a downfall she'd never imagined.

But it was so warm under the blankets, almost like her comforting bed back at home, and she nestled under the covers up to her neck. Being alone comforted her and scared her. She realized that since the game she'd been full of contradictions, and seemingly always at war with herself. Perhaps it was too much to ask for one part of her existence to be at peace?

Sleep came in small bouts. They were not riddled with nightmares like previously, but they were bittersweet. Each time she woke to the sound of a snapping branch or a cawing crow, she had the feeling it was her parents or Hogwarts in her second or first year. That it was the first look at the castle as she came in on the boat, and how she recalled how nothing had ever felt so ultimately right in her life. Yet, if she'd never gotten her letter, she wouldn't have been here in this spot, fighting for her life.

Yet was it all bad? She would have never known Harry or Ron or Neville or Luna. None of the Weasley siblings. No Draco or Pansy- seeing how both bullies changed, one into a decent person and the other into a monster. She might have floundered through her whole life wondering why she didn't fit in like everyone else, completely unaware of a child with messy black hair fighting a war underneath her nose and behind a wall to magic in London. Yes, the thought of never knowing this world- as awful as it was now- felt like a much greater loss than even her life held by a thin string at this moment in time.

The coldness began to seep back in and Hermione wondered why. She spoke it out loud, and then frowned, because talking to herself was not a good sign.

She, by all means, should have been perfectly warm. It concerned her, but there was an aura of safety she could feel up in her tree, as if she was untouchable. Hermione pushed herself further into the covers, eyes peeled.

There was a tingling up above. A package.

It was so simple. Just a note, but had encouraging comments from all her friends back home. From her parents. Hermione touched each signature gingerly, as if each were a memory of it's own. In a way, they were. Like how Ginny dotted her 'I's' in the way that Lockhart used to, even if he was a fraud, it was just her signature now. Neville's strong penmanship which was so changed from his blurry, nervous scribbles he'd done in his early years, Fred's pencil scratches which was always taken from behind one ear, because his best inventions always struck him at inconvenient times, or her parent's purple-ink sign, her mother's favorite color and how her father had once bought her a pack of 100 pens in purple and years later they still were not through half of them.

The note itself would have been merely enough, and had Hermione been in a worse state, she might have missed the indents in the bottom. It was very purposeful, as if someone had spent a good long time re-tracing letters with this page underneath it.

OZFNQGJKB

By first glance, it might have been mistaken from a residue of someone scribbling a confirmation code or other writings, this piece of parchment left by accident under another and forgotten for the moment. Yet, Hermione knew better because they were so perfectly spaced, so meticulously pushed so that she would see it, and others, but most would assume it to be gibberish and sent it through the censor line and allowed to be sent down.

It was important. It was a cipher.

Hermione began to scan the letter with a trained eye. There were no numbers, and therefore it was not a simple cipher. And anyone who went to so much trouble to give this to her wouldn't have been as stupid as to use something so simple so that a bored employee scanning things would be able to figure it out.

Hermione began to look for something unusual in the text that would be seemingly casual or meaningless to most others, and found it in Dean's message.

"My music career is taking off-,"

But if you knew Dean, you knew he was an artist, not a musician. Just plug 'art' in for 'music' and the sentence would be the same, but different meaning. Music was the key code.

Unaware of how much time she had to figure this out, her mind worked quickly, counting the alphabet and holding letters inside her head until halfway through she already knew what it was.

DEMENTORS.

A sense of dread splashed over Hermione like someone dousing her with icy water. Her question out loud had been answered. It wasn't an unusual gust of cold air, but now after realizing where she'd felt it before, she was horrified she hadn't seen it sooner.

There were Dementors near-by and she'd been lucky enough to pass by unnoticed. But it wouldn't last forever. She had to get out of here…now.

She was sure she'd never picked anything up faster in her life. Her exhaustion was suddenly vanished away, and she was wide-awake with terror. These things could and would kill you. They had no moral code; it didn't matter if they stumbled up on sweet Elizabeth (pray she still be alive) or Pansy, it would latch on like a leech and suck every ounce of happiness you had left, which wasn't a lot here, until it fed on your sadness. If the Dementors didn't do you in, you might be tempted to do it yourself in the aftermath. Hermione was already in agony and wondered how she had not become a beacon for them, for she felt as if there was a large floating neon sign above her proclaiming 'sadness buffet, eat here. Take all her happy memoires she has left, why don't you!'

Or perhaps, even she was too sad for a Dementor to care for. It was an utterly depressing thought.

Hermione just knew that staying in one place would be a worse thing than being moving, although neither were perfect options.

Hermione heard a cannon, she flinched violently at the sound, feeling the coldness creep in on her more, but kept moving, ever watchful for a floating black fabric in the trees. They looked like leaves at the worst of times, she realized, and that these things were right out of every child's nightmare, every scary-movie that made you afraid. They were a form of death, the grimm reaper, hiding in the trees.

"Please, let it not have been Elizabeth…" Hermione murmured out loud, her heart twisting at the thought of her only ally left dying because of these otherworldly things.

She cut through the first area they had appeared in, the clearing. It was darker now, and moonlight washed over the area, untouched in the snow. Hermione saw no one, but was still extra cautious. Pansy or anyone else of her cronies could be lurking anywhere, and were just- if not more dangerous- than dementors.

It wasn't until almost across and east of where she'd come from she saw the first flicker of the black robes, and she bit back a cuss. It was warming up and she had really thought she'd out-ran them.

And she was exhausted. It was so much more difficult to trudge through the snow than normal conditions, each step with the heavy snowfall sinking at least to her ankles even with the snowshoes. Hermione didn't even want to imagine how deep the snow would be without them, and how much of an problem that would have been.

Hermione bit back her fear, and turned and saw a dementor floating right above her face. She almost screamed at the awfulness of it. It was if she'd stepped into her childhood bad-dreams of skull faces and bleeding eyes, but that was nothing compared to these things all here, because there was no eyes. There was just emptiness. Just forever darkness, reaching on farther until Hermione felt like she was drowning in the lack of emotion, the wave of sadness.

Alarm bells went off in the back of her mind, alerting her that one was attacking her.

Fight it! A voice scream to her over and over like a broken record player. It might have been her own voice, it might have been Harry's, or even her parents but it was persistent and cleared a fog of sadness from her mind until she blinked back into reality for even just a moment.

This was all she needed.

Her moment of happiness sprung up like someone who had been held underneath he water, gasping for air and pushing forward in Hermione's mind. It was Ron, Harry, Fred, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. It was Quidditch games in the summer and laughter and owls. It was no particular memory, but the emotion and feeling of there might have been something more if this wasn't this and that was that. It shouldn't have been maybe, by any means, a memory worthy of being powerful at all but right now 'could have been' was the most powerful imagination tool Hermione possessed.

"Expecto Patronum!" The words sprung from her with the memory all in that moment when an invisible hand wiped the fog from her vision, sending a tidal wave of blue vibrations across the trees and hitting the Dementor. The creature repelled back as if pushed by a force, and turned the other way as it continued until Hermione's arms ached and her fingers dropped to her side. She felt herself fall limply to the ground, breathing in the sharp tang of fresh snow as it invaded her lungs, pushing against a different kind of blackness. She was still not safe, but far from it.

The sound pierced through the veil of drowsiness, sailing from a din of sound to an acute nagging that couldn't be ignored. They were moans of help and for pain. Hermione got up, and listened carefully.

GREEN GAMES

Elizabeth ran until her legs protested. Even then, she ran a it more. She ran until she quite literally ran into Luna, who she stumbled back from with surprise and caution.

"Luna!" She gaped, unsure on how to perceive this meeting. After seeing Duke, kind Duke (or so she'd thought) who had helped her with her homework on more than one occasion and used to carry first-years around on his shoulders when they were afraid with Pansy and watching Draco so selflessly heal her, she wasn't sure who to trust or who to distrust anymore. Anyone could be turned to the darkness; that much was overwhelmingly clear.

Luna seemed to understand, look right through her. The elder Ravenclaw always had that uncanny ability Elizabeth thought.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Luna said.

"We're competitors." Elizabeth whispered, "It's a murder game."

"That's what the game-makers might think." Luna said, bringing her hair up into a ponytail in her fingers and letting it rain back down over her shoulders, "We are two different bloods. Therefore, we mean no harm to each other." She pointed out.

"So you'd kill me if this rule wasn't here?" Elizabeth questioned through narrowed eyes, her scale for morals shattered in just one day.

"Why ask questions that you don't need to? This is what it is now, is it not?" Luna said, and then her eyes softened, "You look exhausted."

"I am." Elizabeth replied before she could stop herself, but then pursed her lips, "What are you doing alone out here?"

"Well, it's a very good question. I wonder if I should be asking you the same?" She said, and Elizabeth looked down. Luna pressed on, noticing her expression and didn't question, "I was with Seamus before, just a little bit ago. But we both needed to search for different things so our parting was simple." She said.

"Aren't you concerned about being out here alone?" Elizabeth asked.

"I would be quite disillusioned if I pretend it wasn't. But I have faith that I wouldn't be for very long, that I'd either find what I was looking for or otherwise, and now I've run into you." Luna said.

"So you're looking for a person." Elizabeth realized.

"Indeed. He's quite furtive thought." The laughter on her lips relaxed Elizabeth and she grinned. She felt her fists unclench and until the paper fluttered to the ground, had forgotten it.

"What's this?" Luna asked, picking it up to her and handing it back into her fingers.

"A letter. A message. Note, something." Elizabeth struggled, "It's…about Ernie. Something I need to read." Elizabeth pulled a face, "I guess, at least."

"Does Ernie know what it is? Did he write it?" Luna asked, and her face lit up at the speak of her friend. In that awful moment Elizabeth realized that Luna had no idea that Ernie was gone, for how would she? They had just only encountered each other, and she felt a lump reappear in her chest.

"Ernie's dead."

The crestfallen expression on Luna's face was heartbreaking.

"Oh." Luna whispered, as if shocked, "The cannons…I heard them but…"

"You never think it's someone here, even thought it logically has to be." Elizabeth nodded with her, "At least you know it's now whoever you were looking for, unless you were looking for Ernie. Or Daphne." She added.

"No, luckily or unluckily not, it was not either of those." Luna said, "Are you going to read it?"

"Read what?"

"The letter."

"Oh." Elizabeth looked down at the thoroughly crumpled sheet, "I'm afraid." She admitted, "My parents didn't want me to know but Dr-," She paused, realizing Luna might distrust her if she admitted to trusting Draco-, "Others think I should."

"It's a difficult thing." Luna said at her choices, "Should I read it to you? We can both bear whatever it says."

"I don't know." Elizabeth bounced on the balls of her feet a bit, "I mean, if my parents didn't want me to know, maybe it's only pertinent to me and my brother, my family."

"Elizabeth." Luna gently took the younger girls hands, smiling down at her, "Ravenclaw girls are all sisters. No matter if we're in or out of Hogwarts. That's just how it is." She said, and took the parchment from Elizabeth with ease, indicating that Elizabeth had caved.

"Now…"Luna motioned to an area under a pine-tree where the snow was only faintly drifting in, "Let's see what is so curious about this paper."

GREEN GAMES

Through a series of unfortunate and unforeseen events including a Slytherin named Tracey, a rabbit mistaken for something much worse, and Leanne realizing she was allergic to pine needles, she and Justin had been separated.

It had happened early in the morning, just when the snow had begun, and Leanne had been searching ever since. She mourned the loss of her companion already, thinking that they maybe had something good together. Not necessarily sexual, there was really little for that here even if they wanted to. Justin, as he'd told her point-blank the first night, was bi-sexual but his limited taste in girls was someone not like her. If he was going to go for a female, they had to be all feminine.

Leanne, being a previous Quidditch player and being known as perhaps the most violent Hufflepuff on the team in years, was anything but feminine. Sure she had longer hair and yes she often enjoyed fashion and make-up, but she also liked to lift weights and run and after her cousin introduced her to video games and Nintendo, she became the very best there ever was (at least, according to all the boys she played with and totally creamed during the summer).

No, their companion ship worked because she wasn't girly. Justin was, in instances. He hated spiders and getting his feet wet or hands dirty and abhorred the idea of having to cut the skin and fur from rabbits to reveal the meat underneath. He was, after all, a preppy rich boy whose riches rivaled Draco's in opulence. Few knew this though, because he was a muggle-born, and even though money was money, it couldn't buy him a more preferable blood type.

The very idea of any of this 'hunting/camping' thing had been a shock to Justin, who seemingly had never lifted a finger or played in the mud a day in his life. Leanne found this sad. She teased him about it often in their six or so days together since the start of the game, but was very serious about teaching him the basics that he had been to stunned to learn during their week of training. So that in instances that they might have to split up he wouldn't be totally incompetent. Like now; not that their parting had been voluntary.

"Justin?" Leanne called out into the forest, checking over her shoulder each couple steps, worried Tracey would appear from the jungle again, and this time wouldn't be as easily beaten.

She was really cold and as he shoulders brushed a pine-tree, she sneezed. She cussed loudly, hoping that the censors above wouldn't have time to bleep it out because seriously, f this whole game.

It was so cold and she had the slight panic of freezing to death. It was a possibility, so she kept her fingers firmly on the insides of her armpits, the warmest place for them, in an effort to fend off the chill.

She wondered how Justin was doing. Was he okay? Was he worried? Was he looking for her two and did the pair of them unknowing put distance between each other while searching? That thought made her pause, questioning if she was better to stay where she was.

No, she shook her head; Justin would expect her to find him. Truth be told, he was probably hugging a tree somewhere with the hopes she'd magically appear.

By any means, they shouldn't have been a pair. They were both muggle-borns. Eventually, they'd have to cave and kill each other, but Leanne was going to fight it. She liked Justin a whole ton as a person, and the thought of his life snuffing out was so horrifying to her that it overwhelmed her. She saw a spark in him, something that was brightness in a way she was not. But Justin claimed she was. Even though she was mostly the positive happy one and Justin was the negative pessimistic one, he was more than what his rough exterior portrayed.

There was a lingering shade to her side, and she turned in relief. "Justin, I thought I'd lost you!" She began to breath out, but stopped when she realized it wasn't Justin at all, but instead a Dementor. She'd only ever read about them as a child, but they had terrified her so much that once was all it took to bring the passage to her mind.

Her happiness, her optimism, had brought this creature to her like a moth to a flame. But this moth didn't die, but instead it fed until there was no soul of Leanne Headly left, and she herself was too far gone- although not technically dead- that when the cannon went off, it was because there was nothing to do to save her. In every way that I mattered, Leanne Headly was indeed dead.

GREEN GAMES

Lavender was not faring well, in her mind. She was pretty sure she'd already lost more than a couple pounds, and she hardly had eaten anything of substance since the last day in the training area. But, although she'd lost track by this point of the sound of cannons, she was doing better than others and did pride herself on still being alive. She knew the bets were against her, and felt a flash of smugness that somewhere dirty men were loosing thousands of galleons over the fact that Lavender Brown was not the first, second, or even third person to die.

She was a princess, and she was disgusted at how dirty her nails were and was sure her hair was a rat's nest. She didn't even want to look in rivers to see her reflection because the sight she see would abhor her, and if she could have one thing right now it would be her Witch Weekly special deal of intense make-up packs for people that went through hard things daily. While of course made for people who like did something probably like work on a farm all day, Lavender would have given anything to not scoff at the idea of needing something like that and ordered it to bring.

She didn't even have her one item, her brush, because it had snapped and broken what seemed like eons ago.

Six days since she'd been here?

By Merlin, it felt like six months.

"But I'm alive." She said out loud to herself, feigning confidence. She would be remembered, hopefully, as a total city girl who survived at least a week in these games. All the others who she'd compared herself to in previous ones died in the first couple days, her living was something to be glad about. Even if she had to eat a disgusting meal of bitter, rotten apples and tree bark she was fairly sure that was edible. Or not, and she'd totally missed the point of that lesson back in training.

She'd even survived the snow all day long. It was cold, duh, but it wasn't awful. She hadn't thrown away her coat like some idiots, but admitted inwardly only because she'd actually found it stylish. Beside her, she saw Colin shivering in the cold. What an idiot.

Colin wasn't overly happy to be traveling with Lavender or so she got the impression. And she almost understood, she was by no means a good choice of a person that would be able to contribute. But she was a girl that was talking to him, and he was younger, and yes he was a means to an end. And Lavender had money and parents that could send her things if she really needed, so she was just as sure that he was using her too. Which was okay with her in this moment.

Colin's stomach growled, "Should we find food?" He asked.

"Find what?" Lavender waved a hand, pausing, "It's kind of dark and snowing everywhere."

"Those apples were not filling. We need something else. Maybe I can catch a snow-rabbit." Colin wondered out loud. Even thought in a pervious life, the one before the games, Lavender had loved rabbis and kept them as pets, the thought of meat had never sounded so inviting.

"Sounds like a plan! Oh, and then we can get a fire going." She squealed at the thought of settling up to a warm wall of flames.

"If we're careful with it." Colin agreed, "Let's split up."

"What do I do if I find a rabbit?" Lavender questioned, titling her head.

"I don't know. Kill it?" Colin raised an eyebrow, "Maybe try to focus on finding fruit or something." He said.

"Fruit. Got it." Lavender sang.

She was mostly unsuccessful. Even if things were growing, she was not in the right place to find them. It was more than frustrating, because she didn't want to disappoint Colin, especially when he was basically doing all the work to find a rabbit for them.

Finally, she found some little red berries and felt a thrill of joy in her stomach as she greedily stuffed them into her pockets until the whole plant was bare of the red dots. She practically skipped back to where she'd left Colin, because they'd each have at least a handful of some kind of berry tonight. It wasn't a five-course meal, but it was food, and with rabbit, it might even make an excellent sauce or jus.

She came back to see Colin with a triumphant look on his face, and he held up a motionless rabbit by it's food.

"I think someone wants me to live. Basically ran into me!" He cried, "You look pleased."

"Look! I found us side dishes." Lavender sang, gleefully taking out a couple berries from her pocket. Colin's expression instantly darkened and he slapped them out of her hand.

"Those are poisonous, Brown! Merlin!" He said, stomping them into the snow.

"What?" Lavender reeled back, "No! You're joking! Please tell me all that work and I still got nothing?" She bemoaned. Colin gave a low groan, and Lavender heard him asking some deity to give him patience, and forced a smile to her. He was about to say something when his whole body went stiff, and Lavender was smart enough to realize something was wrong. She too stood perfectly still, her every since put on full alert, but found nothing.

"Lavender…" Colin whispered so softly she nearly missed it, "Run. Pike."

He said, and Lavender bolted the other way. There was a crashing through the foliage. She could hear grunts and mutters of Colin and Pike in the background but just kept running. She assumed when she could no longer hear it, it was because she was too far away. She was wrong.

Pike grabbed her out of nowhere, and she cried out.

"Look what I caught." He said, pressing her hard against his chest, forcing her around. He grinned at her, a wicked smile, and Lavender felt bile rise in his throat.

She spat up in his face, and his whole expression dimmed to anger. Grabbing her by her hair, he roughly forced her over to a tree, forcing her down and tying her too tightly with some rope. Her back, her coat and shirt pushed up in the scuffle, roughly scraped down the bark as he pressed her farther to the ground. Her eyes franticly looked to where Colin was, and Pike jerked her face back to his.

"Colin is indisposed right now. But I didn't wan to lose you, bunny. Two is always better than one. In fact, I should go get him now." He said, standing up. Lavender had no doubt in the world that Colin was probably bleeding somewhere out there, but Colin was strong. And he'd done so much to help her, and she was so utterly helpless, that it moved her. Enough to do something really Gryffindor stupid-like.

"Yo, Pike." Lavender called, drawing his attention back to her. She made him turn, "Fuck you."

As she had hoped, he came back toward her. She wondered if she could buy Colin any time to escape, time to regain consciousness and leave.

The kick to her stomach came as little surprise, but still hurt. Lavender didn't even grunt, pulling the pain inward and breathing out.

"Really?" She taunted, "Just a tiny nudge?" She said. Pike got a wild look on his face, a maniacal expression that frankly terrified her.

"Do you have a death wish, Brown?" He asked. Lavender gave him a curled lip, snarling in his direction.

"What's the worst you got?" She baited.

And Pike forgot about Colin after that, seemingly. Something purely animalistic took over in his brain, like a wolf fueled by day old hunger after taking down a moose and being told it was okay to devour it.

Lavender was not prepared for the pain, but she tried not to cry out. She bit through her lip at one point trying to hold it in, which seemed to delight Pike. His methods became more and more sadistic, beginning with fists and punches and ending with knives carving down her once perfect skin. If she ever survived this, she'd be scarred to the point of mutilation for the rest of her life. There was no amount of magic that could fix this.

She fainted from the pain more than once, but was brought back by Pike, for the sole purpose of watching her in pain, seeing her hurt. He reveled in the slow way he was bleeding her out, and intended to make her hurt as much as possible. When Lavender lost a finger, she was so delirious she didn't even notice.

And Merlin, let it all not be for naught, she prayed. She hoped Colin had gotten out, and she hoped that the channel people would show every horrifying moment of her inevitable death, to make people barf at how cruel Pike really was, when you stripped away decorum and a cold mask. She hoped his own parents hated him because of what he did to her.

He didn't even pause at the cannon, but he did pause as a familiar voice rang out through the forest.

"Granger." He said, straightening and rubbing his knife on his shirt, a useless motion as it was already saturated with Lavender's blood, and grinned, "Another prize." He said, and turned to where she had been heard. "Don't move." He said to Lavender, as if she had enough left within her to do anything.

Lavender couldn't help but grin.

"I might be alive, but I might be dead soon. But I am strong." She told herself, and kept saying it until she believed it. The power of delusion was a mighty tool.

GREEN GAMES

Hermione shoved herself up and through the snow toward the sound of the moaning. If someone was hurt, she was going to see who it was. Even it was Pansy, this person was suffering. Hermione couldn't let that happen.

She stumbled into the forest and only saw a body, and wondered where the noise was coming from. Her confusion morphed into absolute repulsion when she realized that the bloody and disfigured thing against a tree was alive. And mumbling, not moaning. But it was easy to mistake it.

Many others would have surly fainted or retched at the sight. The person was so maimed that Hermione wasn't actually sure who it was. Hair was red, and missing in patches where it had been ripped out. One eye swollen shut and bruised, most likely from the damage surrounding it, blind forever. The person was sitting slumped against the tree like a rag doll, legs and arms resting outward. There were fingers and toes gone, and the area around her where it had snowed was so soaked in blood it was merely a puddle now.

"Lavender…" Hermione felt something come up inside of her as one mysterious purple eye flickered toward her. At this point, Lavender didn't even look human, but like a decayed corpse, "Who did this to you?" She felt unbridled anger surge through her body because the cuts on her were precise, calculated. It was not an animal but a person in this arena that had portrayed such violence. The idea that anyone could possess such the ability shook Hermione to the core.

"P…p…p…" Lavender sputtered, but couldn't get past the first sound.

"Pansy?" Hermione questioned. She knew Pansy had maybe gone off the deep-end a bit, but she had always thought a lot of it was all talk, and the idea she was capable of this-

Lavender was shaking her head and repeated the 'P' sound.

"Pike." Hermione felt the word fall of her tongue and fall to the ground with an echoing silence in the moment. There was only he left, and actually, this did not surprise her. He'd come from Durmstrang, a place notorious for creating emotionless killers and men. He always had seemed like a screw was loose too, even when he was a young fourth-year freshly put into Slytherin. He'd enjoyed macabre things even the Carrows had seemed even a bit disgruntled about and was the first to want to practice maiming spells on students who got detention.

Hermione leaned down. There was literally nothing she could do. Lavender was going to die soon, but she didn't know where Pike was.

She saw berries spilling out of a sliced open pocket of Lavenders, and she only had to raise the berry slightly to her face to realize what they were. She hardly questioned in this moment why Lavender had poisonous berries in her pocket, but saw her hand move them to the puffed lips of her dorm-mate.

Hermione was later say she never knew if Lavender realized what they were or not, but deep down, she was sure she did. There was a look of relief, so brief, when she saw the berries that Hermione was sure that maybe she wanted this too. But it might have been her imagination, because Lavender was so far past logical thought that maybe she didn't and Hermione was as horrible as a person as she imagined herself.

But in that moment, she had none of those thoughts. She put the berry between Lavender's lips. At first, Lavender just sat slack-jawed, wheezing heavily, but Hermione made a motion of pressing together with her lips and Lavender followed. The berry burst between her mouth and she heard a swallow.

Within moments, Lavender foamed at the mouth and the cannon went off as the light died from her eyes.

And that's when it hit Hermione. She'd just killed someone. No matter they were almost dead anyway, Hermione had actively ended a life. Was she moral by doing it for a person who was in extreme agony? Did that make her any better? The questions poured into her mind and she pulled at her hair.

"Harry what have I done? Was it right?" She cried out, and there was a cracking of a branch and she straightened, staring into the darkness. She saw a flash of pale hair and before anyone could grab her, she ran. She heard someone calling her name in the darkness, but she just kept running. Running from them, from facing what she'd done, from everything.

Things had not gotten better for her.

GREEN GAMES

Draco, against better judgment, decided to at least try searching the woods for supplies under the blanket of heavy snow. After fixing up the newest patient and sending them on their way, he was extremely depleted from supplies. He could at least get water.

Waking around the forest, a thought struck him. From what it seemed, all of Pansy and her followers were out on a killing spree. Perhaps the original clearing was left empty, along with useful supplies? It was worth a check.

He had only just managed to get to the clearing when he heard a Pantronus spell being cast and a powerful wave of blue being sent far into the clearing. Even if he hadn't heard the voice, there was only one person he thought powerful enough to tap into her original magic to produce that wandless.

"Hermione." He breathed, and felt himself grin.

He slipped silently through the forest, coming upon a place where a scuffle had occurred. He'd heard a cannon, but there wasn't nearly enough blood here to have been the person who died. Also, there were sluggish footsteps dragging away from the clearing, so whoever must have fought got away, albeit injured.

The continued on, and came to a clearing. He saw Hermione enter, and was about to call out, but he noticed her intently fixed on something. His eyes followed hers and he saw the most disturbed face he'd ever come across, worse than anything wheeled into the ER at St. Mungo's, which was quite the feat. Was it even a classmate of his? A deer? Draco honestly couldn't tell.

He watched Hermione and heard every word. He heard that it was Lavender, and although he'd always found the girl annoying and preppy, felt that no one should deserve this. His entire body went cold and stiff when he heard it was Pike. He should have known.

More curiously, he watched as Hermione found some berries that even from his vantage point from the brightness and size he knew was poisonous and push it between the girl's lips. He watched until she died.

It was what he would have done too.

But unlike what he would have done, which was felt a sense of relief she wasn't in pain anymore, he saw Hermione's mind begin to shatter. It was understandable, it was still a death, a tally mark to her. And she was probably wondering if it was the right thing to do, and at this point, Draco felt confident he should step in.

He got up and a branch cracked, and cussed as Hermione turned to him, eyes wide as saucers like a deer in headlights. She seemed to be healing from her previous injuries, he noticed with a smirk, but he did not intend for her to run.

He crashed into the clearing after her, stomping away his frustration. "Hermione! Wait! I promise I don't want to hurt you!" He said, and considered following her, but saw her throw on her invisibility cloak and she was gone.

His next best choice was to wait for Pike. For he would never leave his prey without finishing it, and therefore he left for a reason. Probably to find Hermione. But when he realized she was gone and he wasn't going to find her, which Draco was confident he wouldn't, he would return to finish his job.

And he did.

"Did you do this Malfoy?" Pike thundered, "She was my kill, you jack-ass!" He snapped, baring his teeth.

"I wish I'd been the one to put her out of her misery caused by you, but I was not." Draco said through narrowed eyes, "You disgust me, Pike."

Pike gave a harsh laugh, "Yes, because I was so looking for your seal of approval."

"No, really. Have you looked what you did?" Draco threw back his hand to Lavender's body.

"My masterpiece." Pike agreed, "I have." He was proud, and Draco was so furious Pike was hardly a match against him. His arm snapped back with the sound of ice breaking in the spring on the lake, and he howled in pain. Draco dislocated his other arm too, and sunk his knife into his knee, rendering Pike useless on the ground.

"Kill me." Pike hissed up at him, "Or are you a coward?"

"I'm going to regret this, I'm sure." Draco said, stepping away, watching Pike struggle and wiggle frantically, but he didn't get very far, "But luckily for you, I don't believe in killing. Even if the world would be better off without you."

"So you're just going to leave me here?" Pike said.

"That seems to be the general plan, yes."

"With a corpse?" Pike sounded terrified, first time Draco had seen that emotion on it. It felt a bit sweet.

"Well," Draco stepped back away another tiny step from him just as Pike almost reached his legs, "That's your own fault, I suppose. If you die, it will be from starvation or cold, so I'll sleep tonight just fine. Or some devil is looking up on you and someone will find you and save you." Draco said, and turned to leave, but then couldn't resist adding one last thing, "But Pike, when you do die, I want you to know that I hope with every bone in my body you rot in hell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you it was graphic. Poor deaths :( Two in one day, whew! Actually, sort of three, counting Daphne all the way from the last chapter. So, updated alive list:
> 
> Hufflepuff: Justin (M), [-5]
> 
> Gryffindor: Hermione (M), Colin (M), Seamus (H), Ron (P), [-2]
> 
> Slytherin: Tracey (M), Pansy (H), Pike (M), Blaise (H), Draco (P), [-1]
> 
> Ravenclaw: Elizabeth (M), Mandy (H), Luna (P), Duke (M), Corner (H), Caligula (P), [-0]
> 
> Also? How many of you were totally afraid and thought Elizabeth was going to die when I gave you a cannon, a person moaning, and then switched to Elizabeth's POV? XD I'm evil, clearly. 
> 
> So I start school tomorrow, my last leg of my first year at college. Review and give me some juice to make it through these last few weeks!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Shiny new chapter with shiny new deaths :3 Am I weird for getting excited about that? Eh, oh well XD

Pansy found Pike lying in almost the same location that Draco had left him in early in the morning. Even though Lavender's body had been picked up sometime through the night, the aroma of the rotting corpse as the air warmed up still chocked around his senses like a noose. His arms, both dislocated, hung uselessly at his sides, and his leg had stopped bleeding, but every time he bent, excruciating pain jolted up his brain, leaving him staring at the sky with venomous thoughts about his blond competitor.

"Pike."

He lifted his head off the grass in the clearing, seeing a pair of feet walk around in front of him. Even without seeing the person, the voice was unmistakable.

"Pansy." He wheezed, "What are you-,"

Pansy was hardly listening, as she examined the clearing away from him. She had zoomed in on the growing pile of blood and her book kicked one of Lavender's fingers away from the dirt, although Pike doubted she knew the owner of it. She turned to him, a quite smile.

"At least you killed another." She said, and Pike realized in that moment she had no idea that it hadn't been him. It didn't seem as though she was baiting him to catch him in a lie either, so he gave a broken-toothed smile.

"I made Lavender Brown scream for every moment of torture before she bled dry." Pike said, his lips twisting upward.

"Brown." Pansy huffed, "Surprised she lasted a week. Had to have been her money that helped. She was always so pretentious in school; the world is better without her." Pansy said approvingly.

Pike swallowed, his face dropping. "I did good, then?" He asked. Pansy nodded.

"Yes, Pike, you've done very well. And for that reason, I'm going to help you." She said, waving to his body, and then came and leaned down. Pike felt a shiver of excitement as she came closer, preening with delight that she'd complimented him.

"Arms dislocated. Knife to the knee." Pike said, gritting his teeth as she got behind him and forced him into a sitting position. Her small fingers ran over his skin, feeling every joint that lay beneath, and without warning, snapped an arm back into place. He yowled in surprise and pain, feeling needles speed back into his arm. Mid cry, she had already done the other. The pain ebbed away as relief spread through his body; had he not been found, Pike Webber would have been good as dead. He rolled his shoulders as Pansy poked the sensitive skin around his kneecap.

"Who did this?" She asked.

"You're idioic lover boy." Pike snarled, and Pansy starlted a little, looking shocked.

"Draco?" She recoiled back, "No, but…he's…we're like him. One of us." She stumbled, and Pike gave a humorless laugh.

"I'd say that ship has sailed. He's as useless as a Hufflepuff, Pansy."

Pansy shook her head vigorously, as Pike continued, "If you were smart, you'd realize he'd be an ill-fitted husband, no matter his money. Disgrace the name of a good Slyherin."

A sharp slap echoed through the clearing and Pike's cheek stung. It was his turn to seemed shocked, and he saw Pansy clenching her fingers, eyes sparking with tears that she seemed to be holding back.

"Draco's confused, Pike." She insisted firmly, "He doesn't do anything without reason. He's smart, crafty." She said in a hard tone.

"Oh, so you think I did something to provoke him?" Pike spat in her direction, "Unbelievable. He fucking put a knife through my knee!"

"But he didn't kill you." Pansy whispered, "He probably had every chance and he could have."

"Oh, I would have liked to see him try." Pike roared, "I would have sliced him apart like I did to the Brown bitch."

"You know," Pansy made a noise or irritation deep in her throat, "You're not exactly the softest guy. Maybe you did do something stuipid around him."

"Bull!" Pike objected, "He was disgusted about my methods of weeding out the competition. Felt sorry for a Gryffindor." He insisted. Pansy's face was unreadable, but she turned her head down to continue to examine his leg. By this point, Pike was sure that she had quite enough time to have made a choice about what had happened with it and what could be done, but she was hiding. It surprised him, seeing Pansy vunerable. He switched the topic, swallowing back his hate.

"Why are you out here all alone?" He asked, looking around, "You are alone…"

"No one had come back, even though I've heard plenty of cannons." Pansy said, and took a roll of gauze and a water bottle from her pack.

"So you got scared all alone?" Pike questioned, but it was more teasing. Pansy cracked a smile, hitting him hard on the arm.

"I was concerned all those cannons were you all, not our prey. Why else wouldn't anyone return, especially when I have good food." As if to prove it, Pansy took a chocolate bar from her pocket. Pike's mouth salivated at the thought of a luxury like chocolate.

"We're all trying to impress you, I think." Pike said, "Or at least, they all are. Me? I don't need to prove myself to anyone." He recovered swiftly.

"Hmm." Pansy hummed, but there was a note of disbelief, "Encountered anyone else? Know the statistics of alive or dead?"

"No." Pike admitted, "They should have some sort of list that we can see who we have left, you know? Well, I did find Brown with that Gryffindor mudblood male, but I think he got away. I admittedly got a little carried away with my game with Lavender." He admitted sheepishly.

"Foolish." Pansy bit out, "Two kills is better than one, no matter how tempting it is to see someone scream."

"We could probably still follow him," Pike said hopefully, "Me and you. I cracked his leg pretty good; at least a bruise if not a broken one. Won't get far on that. Other wounds too. He gave a pretty good fight to protect her."

"Probably thought she was going to bang him somewhere around the arena, why else would someone willingly continue with that bimbo?" Pansy snickered, and Pike grinned up at her, "We might as well try. It's dreadfully boring keeping down camp. No one's brave enough to come 'round and try to face me." Pansy sighed.

She helped Pike to his feet, "That should be a note on your terror. You've created yourself to be synonymous with fear, Parkinson."

"Perhaps." Pansy seemed unconvinced, "I think I'm getting restless. I haven't killed anyone yet."

"Well, when we find Colin- and we will- I promise you slaughter him." Pike promised. Pansy's eyes glimmered.

"That's perhaps the most fun idea I've heard this whole game."

GREEN GAMES

Hermione ran away until the only sounds she heard were the sounds of the forest. Far until she was sure no one was following her, and then some. For the most part, Hermione did a fairly good job of keeping her mind well occupied. She denied reality and consequences by reciting her first-year textbooks. Then she moved onto her second year, and then her third.

She didn't stop until she realized how thirsty she was. It was no longer 'winter', and therefore running in even slightly warm temperatures would leave anyone dehydrated. She sank onto a bank of a stream, dunking her palms to form a bowl and bringing the water to her lips, no thought that there might be anything amiss with this water.

It could be poisoned, of course. It was silly of her not to test it first in someway.

Yet that was the furthest thing to her mind as she drank, and her now empty fingers reached her lips, resting there for a second. The tang of blood seeped through her open mouth, from her fingers, leaving a coppery taste on her tongue. She looked down and saw the blood on her fingers.

She almost jumped back, for she'd done such a good job of keeping her mind busy that she'd nearly forgotten…

…that.

She winced; reality was the best hunter there was. He would always catch up with you. Reality was a merciless killer.

She plunged her hands into the freezing cold flow, rubbing so vigorously that soon she couldn't tell the bloodstains from the areas she'd rubbed so raw they were the color of a tomato. She made the mistake of leaning too far over and saw her own reflection ripple across the water, sharp lines gleaming over her face like slashes, broken glass, an imperfect manifestation of herself.

"Oh, Merlin…" Hermione whispered, staring at the ways her face was contorted into ugliness by the ripples, "Did I do the right thing, or the easy thing?"

In that moment, Hermione actually wasn't sure. She couldn't perfectly recall if Lavender might have been salvageable with a little elbow grease and effort, if perhaps there was another way out. It was as if someone had peeked into her mind and scooped out between the moments of Hermione finding her to the moment the Gryffindor's whole body went limp.

She fell back, disgusted at her reflection, for to her it showed a truer self, one rightfully broken up and displaced into different sections by the effect of the water.

Try as she might, every promise she'd made herself at the beginning of these games had fallen and broken so easily. She'd said she would never kill anyone. She said she'd be a good player, never get to comfortable with lack of action to let mistakes and death happen, never lose yourself.

Hermione didn't even want to be herself right now she was so upset with her actions.

But at the same time, she was upset she was upset with herself. She was making juvenile mistakes in these games. Had she been checking her tail? She hadn't thought once about where that stream came from, had she? Did she even have any idea about where she was in the area right now? Quick check around, and the answer was a firm 'no'. She should have been making maps in her head long before this, so that now she could have looked around and said with some sort of confidence, 'oh the cliff we ran from the spiders is to the east'. But she could not.

She imagined this is what a student who failed one of their first tests felt like; guilty, sheepish, angry and determined. They might not salvage their whole grade, but if they started and employed better tactics now they might still make the grade. Or, in Hermione's case, stay alive.

She tore up grass until she had a spot of mud at her disposal and with a finger began to draw out a tentative and sloppy diagram of what she thought the forest to be so far. She knew where she'd came from, she knew how long it had taken her to get here, and she knew the direction (roughly) she'd gone in and the things she'd seen while waking around. If she was correct, she'd begun with her group on the south side of the arena. They'd gone farther south, then at the cliffs gone up east until they reached where Susan had been killed. After that…

Hermione's throat clogged momentarily, and she had to take a moment to wipe the tears from bubbling over her eyes, turning away so that when the salty drop splashed onto the ground, it didn't disturb her drawing. She pressed her lids together, trying to keep them in. She could mourn when she won.

She would mourn for months, she was sure. She'd use all of her money to give all of her friends proper funerals and keep their names from being soiled in the papers.

Okay, back to the diagram. She'd then traveled alone slowly through the northeast parts of the forest, skirting around the original place to the north where she'd found Lavender. After that, she had run and now sat somewhere in the direct east of the starting area. She had an idea that if she kept going in less than an hour she'd hit the boundary of the arena.

So where to now?

That was the question.

And what to do now? How many people was she still even competing against?

She tore out more grass until she had another section. She went through the days, digging initials into the dirt and trying to keep her fingers from shaking too much as she wrote the names of those she was sure was dead. There was Wayne, Faye, Susan, Ernie, Hannah, and Lavender. There might have been one or two more cannons, but even that left her with more than half of the competitors still out there. She did not like those odds, and was sure that the viewers at home were getting antsy with that sort of slow-moving game too.

That scared her. When the game-makers intervened, it didn't matter sometimes if you were a good fighter or a smart camper. You could be the fan favorite, innocently sleeping in a log, and acid fog or something comes down and just like that you die. You can't protect yourself, you can't stop it. You can at least injure an opponent.

She was drawn back the confusion of the mixed-temperature days. On yet a third patch of ripped-up grass area, she started another chart, seven bullets down. So far, the weather pattern- in seasons- had gone Summer, Spring, Summer, Spring, Spring, Winter, and today was Spring-like again.

Her first thought was that obviously they were rotating, somewhat arbitrarily could be the case, but Hermione was smarter than that to think that somewhere men were just rolling dice to see the day. No, it had to be more methodical than that.

Relationship to something, she tapped her head, trying to think of 'four' of something.

"Four directions!" Hermione said, and drew out the circle. For all she knew, when it was spring in her area, the south, it could be snowing in the north! But after tracking her progress, and realizing the weather changed at night, likely at midnight each time (and she'd check tonight to see if there was any difference in temperature when the day changed.

What else had four sections that could be monitored in the games? The game-makers, mostly Ravenclaws, liked their riddles. They wanted a contender to figure out the trick of the arena each year, yearned for someone to realize their brilliance and apply it. Last year, the days and nights had seemed to vary in length, a single day of light could last more than twenty hours, and nighttime could be two hours long. It was later figured out by a rather brilliant Hufflepuff, who died not long after, that the length of the day related to the length it took people to die. If someone took five minuets, it would be a five hour-long night. If there were a really long stretch where no one was killed, it would be daylight until someone was.

"Deaths." Hermione stumbled back, angry with herself for not realizing it sooner. What were the game makers, above all else, fixated on? What got them paid more, what gave them better ratings? Better deaths? Of course everything would come back to that.

Just like there were four seasons, there were four houses in these games…wasn't there?

Obviously they had to choose a day to begin with, because no one could die before the game start, so if she was correct, then obviously the second day on should fit a pattern.

The first death was Wayne, a Hufflepuff, and the second day was spring. Okay, that made sense. Spring was a gentle time in her mind, one that correlated with the soft-spoken house well. Next was summer, as fiery as a Gryffindor, which was Faye- next to die.

Then spring happened again, and that was Susan. Spring again, Ernie.

After that, her theory fell apart, because it should have been spring again, but instead it was winter, which was either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, but she wasn't sure which. But the idea of this theory resounded so firmly in her mind that Hermione was now convinced she'd mucked something up. Maybe in her time asleep, or before during the struggle, there'd been another death. She was absolutely sure that she was missing information, so even if her idea was right (she was pretty much willing to bet her life on this thought) it rendered it useless. Without all the corresponding data, there was no way to prepare when this relied of heavily on such perfectly recorded things.

And besides, she couldn't be there for every death, she realized sullenly. She could at least had an idea of what house died when there was a cannon, she realized, because the days had to follow a pattern. And if she were making an educated guess, she'd put money on the winter being the equivalent of Slytherin. She hoped it was Pansy, but alas that was perhaps too high of a wish to grant. If there was any Slytherin she actually hoped wasn't dead, it was Draco, because in the days previous to the game, he almost seemed like an okay guy, turned around from sin. If there was still hope for someone like Draco to change himself so suddenly, perhaps Hermione could find redemption for what she had to do to survive after too.

She cupped her hands in the river once again and splashed over her work until it was just mud once again. Didn't want anyone else figuring things out or realizing anyone had been through here.

Her plan was to go where she'd see Elizabeth last. Assume alive until dead was a decent philosophy, in her mind, and if her days were correct, there hadn't been a fall day or a Ravenclaw death. It was this hope that the young girl was still alive that forced Hermione to move from her spot. She had not felt such an intense flutter of hope in a very long time.

GREEN GAMES

When Duke heard the cannon, and Daphne did not return, he was sure she was dead. She couldn't survive without him, and would have turned up the whole forest to come back to her provider, or died trying. He couldn't imagine the circumstances of her death, but instead of feeling relief like he though- she was a right pain the ass- he instead felt a bit guilty, a bit sad.

He might be with Pansy, but it was a form of preservation that almost made him a Slytherin at the sorting. He did have a firm desire to look out for himself and only himself, and obviously going with Pansy- the clear victor- he thought might save him. He didn't want to kill others, though, it just wasn't his style. Even with his hunger that roared in his stomach, the only thing he thought appropriate to kill was an animal. Merlin knows he'd be revealed as a fraud if he came across an actual competitor.

Which is why when he heard rusting in the trees, he jumped behind a rock like a skittish mouse instead of pulling his knife out to face the foe. When he saw it was just Corner and Blaise, he sighed in relief. Putting his knife away, stepped out, hands raised in surrender.

"Oakly?" Blaise squinted, "Where's Daphne?"

"Likely dead." He shrugged, "We split up to find food after she washed ours down the river and I never saw her again. Heard a cannon though."

In the time with the people, he'd learned most were a bit more vicious than not, including Blaise. He was pretty sure most people had a bad side to them, caged and kept under wraps at most times and probably all their lives, until they were invited in times like this to let it out. But now, Blaise didn't look like an animal at all. His whole expression just crumpled, and his shoulders slumped. He looked so upset, and Duke recalled after a moment of confusion that the pair had dated a long time. Probably broken up because of the difficulty of the games and being a couple.

"Daphne…" He murmured, shaking his head, "You should have been with her!" He spun on Duke angrily, shoving him forcefully, causing Duke to hit a tree enough to knock the wind out of him "You should have been protecting her, Oakly!"

"Hey!" Duke shoved back, "We don't even know for sure she's dead mate? It could have been anyone else in this fucking area, you know?" He said.

"Then why aren't you with her?" Blaise's eyes burned with fire.

"I didn't put a tracker on her, or something, okay? I don't know where she is." He snarled back, "And isn't the point of the games to kill everyone until there's no one left? If you really wanted someone to protect her, you should have done it yourself."

Blaise leapt at him, and Duke flinched, expecting his face to be torn off or something, but when it didn't come, he looked to see Corner using all his strength to hold him Blaise back.

"Hey, he's right, dude. This game isn't about protecting people, it's about being one of the last three standing."

"They're not even the same blood-type. It shouldn't have mattered. He should have been there, at least comforting her in whatever hellish way she went." Blaise muttered, baring his teeth.

"Maybe it was painless." Corner consoled him, "Maybe Daphne didn't feel a thing." He insisted. This calmed Blaise, "And she might still be alive."

"I have to know." Blaise nodded, seeming not quite himself. He frowned, pulling out a ribbon from his pocket, a soft yellow green thing that, if Duke recalled anything about Daphne, matched her eyes.

"What's that?" He couldn't help but ask. Blaise sent him a dirty glare.

"Daphne's ribbon. It's the only thing I have of her. If you hadn't let her lose the bags, I wouldn't have to resort to using this." He spat out bitterly, as if it was Duke's fault the bags had been lost, not the blonde bimbo who'd thrown them over the bank in the first place to prove a point Duke didn't even remember anymore.

Duke watched with great interest as Blaise laid it on the ground, murmuring an incantation in Latin that Duke didn't fully understand. His ancient runes class had been less than satisfactory after Voldemort's takeover, and besides, as the air around him turned stuffy, he realized that this was dark magic that wouldn't have been taught to a kid like him anyway.

Corner seemed unconcerned, leaning against the tree as if it was only another day. Duke was enthralled as the shadows began to dance around the ribbon, and he watched with horror as the ribbon melted into a black liquid before his eyes.

He didn't have to be a master at runes to realize what that must mean. Daphne, undoubtedly, was dead.

For a couple seconds, it seemed Blaise was shocked into silence. He didn't move at all. He just sat, shoulders shaking ever so slightly, staring with horror at the ribbon. It wasn't even until he turned to look at Duke that he saw tears streaming down his cheeks and realized how upset the dark-skinned man was.

And boy, upset didn't even cover it.

Still clinging to the dark magic that made the clearing crackle with electricity gathered from Latin words and runes drawn in the dirt, Blaise's eyes were black with fury.

"I don't care what the official report says, you might as well been the one to stick a knife through her heart yourself." Blaise said, his pokes increasingly stronger as he backed Duke against a tree.

"Dude, calm down, I'm not your enemy. I didn't-,"

"Silence." The word was said in a whisper but it resounded around the clearing like it was screamed. Duke felt himself being thrust upward with a force of magic, dark magic, that gripped his hart and squeezed on it like a claw, until he was suspended halfway in the air, gasping for air desperately.

"Blaise! Blaise, c'mon, he's not worth it. You know Daphne is stubborn." He heard Corner trying to reason with Blaise. It worked, somewhat, because he felt himself dropping to the ground. Too bad he was a good couple stories above the ground when it did. He saw, as he plummeted to the ground, Blaise's eyes roll back into his head and collapse on the ground and the static in the clearing vanish. He registered the absence of black magic a moment before the most horrifying cracking sound he'd ever heard echoed in his head.

Corner stared at his friend lying supine on the ground, and only turned toward Duke when he began to blubber incoherently.

"My…my leg…it's…I'm…I can't feel my leg," He was whispering over and over, each time becoming more hysterical, "There's a bone sticking through my freaking leg! I'm bleeding, it's everywhere…it's everywhere, Michael!"

Michael looked at him with pity, nodding to the place where his leg was bent at an unnatural angle, "It's broken, that's for sure. Be glad it wasn't your head, I suppose." He shrugged, grabbing Duke's remaining items from a salvaged fabric and putting it in his own bag, turning to start to pick Blaise up under his shoulders.

"You're…you're leaving me?" Duke felt his throat dry. Corner shrugged unapologetically.

"Yeah, I am." He said, huffing as he lifted Blaise onto his shoulders.

"But…but we're Ravenclaws…brothers…" Duke's voice sounded like he was a scared five-year-old, any preamble of being a strong man gone as he realized the hollowness of his situation.

Corner sighed, shifting his weight to accommodate the large and knocked-out man he was carrying, "You were a Ravenclaw by force. Blaise and I…we were friends as kids. I'm sorry, but…" He pulled a face, and turned, unable to end his sentence.

"But I'm leaving you here to die…" Duke realized with horror as Corner turned and walked away without turning back, "You can't leave me with nothing! You took my food! Come back, you coward! Come-ack!" Duke tried to move but his leg prevented him, quickly leaving him in the same position he'd fallen in.

And by this time, Corner was long gone.

Duke frowned, turning to the sky. He'd always been lucky. Perhaps it would begin to rain…

GREEN GAMES

Ron had done surprisingly well for himself alone. He'd thought he'd been done for after jumping off the cliff from those spiders (okay, more like unintended falling, but potato, tomato or something like that muggle saying, right?). Yet, his family who had never failed him before didn't fail him now sent him some food and medicine that left him feeling better in a couple days time, alive and in the games once again.

He smelled strongly of mildew and rotting leaves, as he'd had to protect himself from everything alone while his sickness passed over, and he'd done so by shoving himself inside a large fallen tree. He had his sleeping bag, and he realized that once you killed a gigantic spider the little ones weren't as scary, and boy was that tree-log filled with them. By Merlin, if he ever got out of this alive, his spider fear would basically be cured!

It was only after the winter passed (and seriously, what was up with that? He was glad his little tree-log was warm and cozy, because it was harsh) that he dared to venture outside for more than a couple moments. His arms and legs ached from the continual laying down, and when he rung out his sleeping bag, batting it in the wind, he counted no less than twelve spiders fall to the forest floor.

They were still a bit creepy.

He wiped his forehead and a thick streak of mud came back on his hand. There was being a boy and now showering for a week and finding it okay, but even this level of grime disturbed him. If he found the stream he'd washed up on however many days ago, he could get clean. He'd never looked forward to a bath with so much excitement in his life.

Oh, and his stomach growled. He patted it, the food his mother had sent drying up earlier that morning. He saw a rabbit and didn't even bother finding his knife; he used his bare hands to kill it. His mouth watered just looking at it.

Down at the stream, he made a fire first. He figured that food could come before hygiene, even though he was itching everywhere every couple seconds (he wouldn't put it past himself to have chosen a bit of poison ivy to be growing in tree; he'd been half dazed when he'd found it anywhere, bleeding and near dead. He skinned the rabbit and cooked it, and smiled to himself proudly. Hermione would be amazed at his survival skills, if she could just see him now!

His smile dampened at the thought. Seeing Hermione, saving her, it had been…nice. Almost nostalgic. But seeing Hermione reminded him that Harry was gone.

He was sure Hermione must almost hate him at this point. He'd cut off his friendship with her, not the other way around, but it wasn't because he didn't like her. It was just honestly too painful to look at her and know there should be one more person by her side, but both their sides. But he figured by this point he'd made a mess of it anyway, they were both in the Green Games but neither probably knew if the other was still alive. It was only his own fault if Hermione hadn't given him more than a passing thought in all these days.

Harry would be disgusted with their lack of friendship. He should be protecting her at this point, like they should have been from the start. He should have never stopped talking to her, never strayed. Oh, wasn't it just fitting that these regrets washed over him now, and hell... he might never get the chance to apologize for it all, too.

The rabbit tasted less delicious after those thoughts.

But he couldn't spend forever feeling sorry for himself, and the mud cracking in the sun now reminded him that he needed to get clean. When he waded into the slightly rushing river, he sighed in relief as he saw the water around him fog a dark brown and the foliage crack off and wash away from his palms.

There was movement on the other side of the stream. Ron lowered himself all the way into the water, until just his eyes and hair (less noticeable now that it was a mud-color instead of the usual ginger) stuck above the water. Then, he noticed the shade of the hair and his heart thud hard in his chest.

"Luna!" He shot up out of the water, staring to stumble across the stream, "Luna!"

The girl turned, and there was someone else with her, but Ron didn't even notice. He only registered that Luna came flying at him, down the stream and met him halfway in the water. He grasped her tightly, arms around her waist, his nose burying in her long hair.

"I thought I'd lost you." Ron murmured, "Are you okay?" He took a step back, his face frantically searching hers to see any wounds, "You're fine…" He realized after a moment, pulling her back in for a hug.

"Of course I'm fine, Ron." Luna said with a laugh like tinkling bells, "You know me better than that."

"I do, but Merlin, I can't help but worry." He said, never wanting to let her go. There was a cough on the other side of the bank. He looked up to see Elizabeth grinning at the embracing pair, her smile reaching from ear to ear.

"I'm guessing this is who you were looking for, eh, Luna?" She laughed, and Luna turned back to her, nodding, at a loss for words. Ron's heart swelled- she was looking for him. He felt her hand slip into his and lead him across the stream to where his things were. Elizabeth found a shallower part in the stream and got wet up to her ankles, but was not as wet as Luna and Ron, laughing and giggling as Ron stared at Luna in awe and Luna wrung out her hair on the banks.

It was then he recalled who Elizabeth had been with last time he'd seen her.

"Is Hermione still alive?" He asked, his whole body turning to lead at the idea that the very thing he feared, never making up with her, could come true so quickly.

"Last I know, she's still alive." Elizabeth said, smiling thinly.

"Why aren't you with her, then?" Ron asked, offering them some leftover rabbit.

"It's a long story." Elizabeth sighed.

"She's been through a lot." Luna interjected.

She began to tale about how Blaise and Corner had attacked their camp, running, almost being killed by Daphne, being healed, up to finding Luna.

"Wait, ferret healed Hermione?" Ron shook his head, "I don't buy that. He's obviously lying to you."

"To what cause? What would he gain?" Elizabeth asked.

"Your trust, obviously." Ron scoffed.

"I think he did when he healed this," Elizabeth said coolly when she pulled her shirt down to show the knife-wound on her back. Ron was silent for a moment, shaking his head.

"Since when does Malfoy know medicine? Aren't the point of Death Eaters to kill people? Not heal?" He questioned, receiving a hard thump on the arm from Luna.

"I don't know, he just does." Elizabeth shrugged, "He seemed really concerned about Hermione too."

Ron shuddered, "That concerns me. Who knows what fucked up ideas he has about her!" He said.

"Ron! He saved her!" Luna said sharply, nudging him.

"Oh, come on. This is fishy, and you know it! Whatever fixation Draco Malfoy has with Hermione, it can't be good. There's no way this story ends well…"

GREEN GAMES

Hermione had slipped away from him once again.

Every time she came near in his sights, something got mucked up and she leapt away like a deer, running farther and farther away from him. Draco frowned; she was probably running herself mad at this point, wondering if killing Lavender was the right thing to do.

It was, by the way, after immobilizing Pike, he'd taken one last glance at the girl lying now in peace against the tree, and felt ill at the sight of her. Yes, there was completely nothing that could have been done to save her. Even the most complex of magic's couldn't have mended her wounds. There were limits on even what a wave of the wand or a potion could do to a person.

At least with this warmer weather and faster system, new herbs and materials had to begin to pop out of the ground. He'd lost Hermione but almost completely restocked his storage, and added some new plants he'd missed the first time around.

When he returned to his 'home' he was startled to find a person lying outside, seemingly by no accident. When he approached, he saw it was the Gryffindor Muggleborn male, the one who'd been traveling with Lavender. He only knew this because after memorizing the handiwork of Pike, he'd recognize it anywhere and the boy's back was a spider-web of lacerations. His leg looked pretty wonky too, and Draco stifled a sigh as he went to poke him.

Well, what had he expected, when the point of this game was to kill others? That there would be no injuries to take care of? That would have been foolish to assume…

"Malfoy!" Colin breathed as he awoke, staring at him with relief, "You found me."

"You're rather laying near my residence." Draco replied deadpanned, "Why are you here anyway?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Colin winced and wheezed, "I'm hurt."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Here. Got…this…letter." Colin took great breaths to find the strength to reach into his back pocket and retrieve a very bloody sheet of paper. Draco took it delicately, glancing at it to find a note (he didn't tread the whole thing) from his mother and a map to his hut. Great. He was really a healer now, and it was becoming publicized. Not what he wanted.

"Why do you think I'm just going to heal you like that?" Draco questioned, rubbing his eyes with exhaustion.

"It's what healers do," Colin's eyes were wide, "Isn't it? Otherwise I'd die."

"Leaving you to die is not the same as killing you." Draco surveyed his wounds, "Besides, the wounds won't kill you." He dismissed it with a wave of his hand, "Slow you down…yeah."

"You healed Elizabeth just like that!" Colin fired back.

"By Merlin, she's thirteen! She shouldn't even be in these games, you idiot. Of course I'm going to heal a child!" Draco stared at him with growing impatience.

"You also healed Hermione, and I didn't see you wanting something from her in return." Colin added with a smirk. Draco spun.

"How-," he began to ask, but Colin grabbed the paper.

"Letter." He answered simply.

Draco locked his jaw. He wasn't really in the mood to heal someone right now, in fact all he wanted to do was sleep for a day or so. He wanted to eat a can of something likely not great tasting, but better than waiting to catch a squirrel or a mouse, curl up on his bed, and sleep for ages. Not deal with a petulant Gryffindor.

He began to turn, but Colin's squawk of protest made him turn. He looked at the boy on the ground, frowning deeply.

"I can make it worth your while. A trade." He said, his eyes glimmering with desperation, "Please, this bloody hurts and I can't walk all that much."

"What do you have that I want, Creevy?" Draco tapped his foot and cross his arms, raising an eyebrow.

"Information. From Pike." Colin said, and Draco's interest piqued, "When he was beating me up, you can get him to monologue almost anything." He said, and from the glimmer in Colin's eyes, Draco knew it to be true. Properly intrigued, Draco leaned down.

"Well," He finally said, the word dripping from his tongue, "Then I suppose I do have business with you then." He said, grabbing Colin to lift him to his feet, and dragged him near the protective barrier. Colin was almost shaking in relief.

"You won't be sorry!" He insisted. Draco scoffed, looking at him.

"I better not be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo
> 
> I lied. No deaths this chapter! But oh boy are we in for a ride next chapter! You're not gunna believe what happens next time! You finally get to figure out the romance before Draco Hermione has too, so that means we're one step closer to what I realize you all want...Dramione sexiness...hopefully all the little inter-comparisons about the two POVs of Draco and Hermione at least keep you all happy for now :3
> 
> And btw, if we have any fans of the 100 in the readers, specifically Bellarke fans (I'm pretty sure we do...) I've written a Bellarke story! It's set after season 2 and it's a Persephone/Hades AU with Bellamy and Clarke stepping into the roles of our favorite greek couple (three guesses whose who, eh?) Anywho, means a ton if you'd check it out :)
> 
> Be sure to leave kudos, a comment, subscribe, or bookmark this story! It takes thirty seconds to comment, one click (one second) to leave kudos or bookmark to make an author's whole day happy. 
> 
> Until next time, my readers!


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone should be really happy! I had to cut this day in 2 it's so long, and even so this chapter is 18 pages. So much death and goodness to go around, eh?
> 
> It's been so nice to be able to write this as my stress reliever in between studying for my exams. My first is tomorrow and I am terrified i'm going to oversleep. Ahh! That'd be awful XD

Nothing much exciting happened between the darkest parts of the night into day; people lumbered about, ate this or that, slept, it was altogether seemingly a rather boring couple of hours for any late-night watchers at home.

What they did not know, what they could not see or feel, was how hot the area was steadily getting. Just as the day turned from the previous to the next, it came in strong bursts, like fire burning only feet away from one's skin. As the sky turned slowly, light blazing across the sky, the air was sticky, humid, and sizzling. It was only when Caligula came across a bird's nest and cracked one on a stone before he'd lit a fire and it began to sizzle that the people back home perked up with excitement. It was far hotter than any one had thought.

And it was thusly so agreed and acknowledged in the arena and to those still unconvinced about the repercussions of a little heat wave through the area as he and Colin almost fully fell into the river in relief, cupping handful after handful to their lips, seemingly never satisfied.

"Careful, you'll re-open those wounds." Draco snapped as Colin jumped into the stream.

"My, Merlin, it's so hot out." Colin just answered throatily, giving a long moan of pleasure as he drank water, "I don't want anything more than a bucket of ice right now."

Draco, too hot to badger him much more, joined him halfway into the steam, sighing in relief too as the water soaked through his clothes, providing instant gratification, dunking his head under, submersing his whole body in the cooling stream.

When he re-emerged, Colin was glancing upward curiously, "What do you think is the point?"

"Of what? These games?" Draco said, about to reply with something biting and controversial for an answer, but Colin spoke over him.

"No, the heat." He said, "The weather's bloody confusing here as it is, but this summer is unusual as it is. Obnoxiously hot." Colin sunk lower into the water.

"Oh," Draco deflated, shrugging into a more haughty tone, "That's easy."

"How so?" Colin tilted his head.

"Well, deaths." Draco put bluntly, "No cannons yesterday. I'm sure the spectators back home are dying for something by now." He scoffed lightly.

"Yes, but how does this achieve that?" Colin pressed. Draco gave him a pitying look.

"Well, we can see why you're a Gryffindor rather than a Ravenclaw, I suppose." He said, and Colin scowled deeply, "Obviously in heat like this people are going to need water. It will draw everyone together to the only sources around, these rivers."

"And when people get together…" Colin realized, "Ah. But…what if someone doesn't come to a river? Stays away because they've thought of that?" He asked.

Draco thought for a moment. He hoped Hermione would stay away; she should be smart enough to realize this, if he did. But even so, it was risky to hope you'd be okay. "I suppose if they have a full and large canteen or are skilled well enough to do wandless water magic- and the only one I heard of from my father that he saw was Ernie and he's dead now-they'd have to come. If they did not, they wouldn't last long in this heat." Draco said, and as he stood, he already could feel the water evaporating off his skin.

Colin gave a wince, "Good lord, dying by dehydration." He said, as if the thought hadn't crossed his mind.

"It's nasty." Draco agreed, recalling what he'd been told about it while studying, "There are few deaths I hold as awful ways to die, and dehydration is one of them."

There was a silence between the pair of men, before Draco crawled from the water, unhooking his large water pouch and filling it to the brim.

"Come. We don't want to be found here. I think we both have many enemies." He called, and Colin grumbled, wincing as he came onto the bank and Draco saw one of his stitches had come undone, blood running over the hot stones. He rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Isn't everyone our enemies by this point though?" Colin questioned. Draco looked at the man he had saved, or at least helped, and thought of the others, like Elizabeth. He thought of Hermione.

"I should hope not." He said, allowing a tiny smile, "The point you're alone is the point you're done for."

GREEN GAMES

Duke was undeniably alone. He couldn't move an inch, not a crumb to his name. He'd gotten so hungry he'd tried to eat grass, but it didn't do much. He shakily held up a hand, to count. Three days since he'd last had any food or water. The revelation caused his body to seize up and he lowered his hand, although a second later he had forgotten he'd done it.

"I'm going to die." He whispered out loud, though no one could hear. If they did, they'd either save him or give him some water, or they'd come out and kill him now so he didn't have to go through this.

That was the worst; he thought as he closed his eyes and swallowed back some spit in an effort to quench his growing thirst, he knew it. He felt it with a certainty in his bones that made them feel like lead. It left him time to think, for what else was he supposed to do? He had no food, no weapons, just time in between the unavoidable nothing.

Did he regret it? The paths he'd taken to get here? That he'd sided with Pansy, thinking she was the most able, best choice for this? He'd been so foolish, he thought bitterly, expecting anyone like her to stay loyal to each other. That was the most peculiar thing about these games; he was the anomaly right now. It wasn't lack of food or water that killed people; it was that people turned on each other. Allies began to wonder when they'd get stabbed in the night by their partner because it was going to have to happen to one of them eventually, one way or another, and it might as well be not them. It was the fall-out of distrust or choices to save one's self that was the real enemy here.

Blaise may have left Duke his current predicament, but if Duke had any say, when they were tallying everyone's respective kills, it might as well go to Michael, for the worst betrayal a Ravenclaw could do was the betrayal of a fellow Eagle. And Michael was his killer, for in his greatest time of need, he'd left him. Taken his food, watched him wither in pain and never looked back.

If it were any consolation, Ravenclaws current and past would hate him now, if they hadn't already. If he died, most may spit and say 'he deserved it, that deserter' and if he lived through these games for the rest of his life he'd have the disapproving glares of blue and bronze-gilded magic folk on his back.

Ravenclaws were just like that, nearly as obsessed with tradition and brotherhood as damn purebloods. Duke would have found both unreasonable, and had on his first train-ride to Hogwarts from Durmstrang and heard about the way this faction held loyalty to each other. Why, even Slytherins that abandoned each other at times were forgiven.

But then he'd been placed in Ravenclaw, and it all felt into place. It was a certainty, a promise that whatever and wherever a Ravenclaw would be there for you.

But, oh, they were wrong, weren't they?

There were often a time where some theorized the only reason Michael Corner was not in Slytherin was because of his utter raw brilliance; he was what they called a prodigy in Ancient Runes. Had he not been in these games, he likely would have gone on to work as an Unspeakable, making breakthroughs with the most basic and primal and secretive projects regarding the beginning of wizardry.

Perhaps for this reason, Duke shouldn't have felt like he'd not only been merely abandoned, but kicked in the gut multiple times. Maybe he should have seen it, known that if the hat was smarter, Corner should have been in Slytherin, it would have made a better fit.

But it still hurt, although Duke couldn't even begin to understand it at all. Perhaps it was the principle of the whole thing, the ideas around the bond, about it's shattering. Perhaps the reality of the games still hadn't hit him completely, it was…

It was…

Duke felt bile rise up his throat and leaned over to barf, although is stomach produced nothing but nasty bile that corroded as it rose up his throat, splattering upon the ground. Duke felt suddenly overwhelmingly dizzy and could not recall his last train of thought. The air seemed to cool around him, although it was just his imagination. He realized hazily he couldn't feel his body; he was forced into a hazy fog that left him only the most disconnected of thoughts, but in this confusion, it didn't scare him.

You're about to die.

His mind told him so, and Duke would have spoken, had he the ability, but he had the vaguest thought of affirmation, a small sound in the back of his throat. Some may call it a blessing to at least look the grim in the eye and nod back, some would rather never know fully at all, but Duke could not comprehend neither has his body forced down the first unneeded human ability; his consciousness. A wave of darkness flooded his eyes and he fell back against the tree with a soft thud.

This was, of course, his body working rapidly to save what was left of it, diverting energy left to the most important parts. As it was, without the water, it could be completely said of everyone it was a blessing he had passed out, for his bodily functions shut down one by one, until just his heart was left.

And when that was all there was, it was still not enough, and that too stopped beating.

Just as he predicted, on the other side of the world through the cameras watching him, Ravenclaws were outraged. His mother screamed and kicked things; for Draco and Colin wandered into the clearing just 112 seconds after he died- the announcers overhead had been counting- and if any number of things had been different, perhaps Duke might have lived.

But that was the worst thing about the games. It seemed to be built not upon human cruelty, as much as Duke had thought, but sadly upon chance and circumstance.

GREEN GAMES

The boats glistened upon the starry lake, Seamus recalled, they rocked and bounced slightly upon the blackened tides, the foggy lanterns hanging from the bows bobbing in time to the rhythm of the waves.

That is where he saw Hermione Granger for the first time.

As all the students were ushered swiftly onto the wooden boats, and Seamus was the first on his own. Then came a gangly boy with glasses and pimples that sat as far away from Seamus as he could, and he later learned it was Theodore Nott. Then came who would become his best friend during school, Dean, and he stared unwilling at the boats on the water.

"What if they capsize? Where are the oars?" He questioned loudly, frozen on the edge of the dock, staring at the distance between the boat and the water below.

"If you fall the giant squid will catch you." Theo said nastily, and Dean gave him a wild-eye look, backing up into a female with wild hair and a bucktooth smile.

"It's alright, these boats are really hard to fall out of. They're magic." She assured, rubbing his shoulders, "Go on, then." Dean looked at her, then the boats, and cautiously settled down. He sent the girl a thankful smile.

Seamus quite expected her to go to the next boat, which had three giggling girls all sitting as close to each other as they could, but instead she lowered herself into their man-boat, taking the only open seat, the one nearest Seamus. There was an air of confidence around her Seamus didn't see in girls often, the way she crossed her legs and sat looking at the castle with awe and hope, it stirred something in him.

She turned back, looking at each of the boys. She turned to Seamus first, holding out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger." She informed promptly, surprising him with her attitude.

"Seamus." He stuttered back, feeling his hands grow sweaty as she shook her hand. Whether she noticed or not, she never said a word. She turned to Theo, who raised an eyebrow.

"In my world, women are silent until spoken to." He informed her, but to Seamus it sounded as if he was reciting a sentence on a page, and wasn't sure how much he believed it. Hermione laughed, as if he'd said something quite funny, and shook her head.

"What world is that, exactly?" She asked, seemingly unperturbed by his horrid attitude.

"The real magic world. Clearly, you're a muggle-born." He snarled, recoiling back at her out-stretched hand, "People like you shouldn't be here."

Hermione's face turned into an angry pout, and she frowned back at him, "Well," She said without a stutter to her words, "People like you should learn to not be so ignorant. It's unbecoming!" She informed him, and Seamus felt a wide grin split across his face, watching Theo- oh, he'd be a Slytherin for sure- stumble back almost over the edge, sputtering his words, but unable to come back with a decent reply.

"Wow!" The boy remaining in their boat whistled, "That was something. I'm Dean, by the way, and I'm a-,"

Hermione waved her hands, cutting him off.

"Save it. I couldn't care less what type of blood you are. We're all Wizards about to be accepted into Hogwarts, aren't we?" She said, shrugging away Theo's assertions, causing him to hiss something under his breath, smiling to Seamus in such a way that made him feel as though he was the only other thing in the world besides her, "Don't you agree, Seamus?"

His voice abandoned him as she looked at him, and it was such a look of pure and untainted expectation, the idea that she wanted to be friendly to him, that a girl like this had seemingly picked him out among the rest…his whole body stiffened and all he could manage was a jerky nod.

Suddenly, he understood all the things his cousin Fergus told him about what it meant to like a girl. Up until this point, girls seemed vapid and shallow and didn't like getting dirty and Seamus- a farm boy- couldn't image wanting one of those girls but Hermione…

Merlin, Hermione wasn't like them at all. She was strong, proud, unapologetic, and kind underneath it all, unless you insulted her. Just moments with her and Seamus could read her like a book, and when she looked at him with a timid smile, it was if she was an open pond, inviting him to look inside. This was a girl he could easily start to like, he mused to himself, enamored with every bit of her; the too-big socks that pooled around her ankles, her slightly wrinkly jumper which she ran her hands down every couple seconds, her inquisitive eyes gazing around her like there was nothing better in the world, her large hair, which acted like a halo around her face.

It was all so utterly beautiful to Seamus, although in his eleven-year-old mind he would not figure this out until much later, but right now he wondered if Fergus had been wrong about the whole love thing because it was like he'd been punched in the gut and it felt awful. It made his breath grow short, and his heart thud fast, and every movement she made he was hyper-aware of it, every small and delicate twist of her body he was acutely watching, trying to decipher this thing in front of him, this female that had suddenly barged into every forefront of his thoughts.

It was the most unnerving experience Seamus had ever had the displeasure to feel, but at the same time, the idea that perhaps this would all vanish just as suddenly as it came made him frantic to keep it.

And oh, the utter relief when they both got into Gryffindor. But by the time it was all said and done, he saw her looking at Ron and harry. Why shouldn't she? Harry was famous, and seemed like an ok bloke in Seamus' book. He couldn't get upset with her for choosing someone like him, not that it seemed like she liked Harry like that, thankfully.

After that, their friendship was not the same. They were friends, in a sense, but not the way she was a friend with Harry or Ron or even other house mates like Luna or Hannah. It always sort of hurt him, on the inside, and Dean told him many a times it would be better for him to forget about her. And Merlin, Seamus tried. He dated Lavender for a while; it was short-lived. He went to a dance with another girl, a Ravenclaw, but spent the whole night staring wistfully at Hermione in the most glorious blue dress he'd ever seen her in.

Getting over Hermione Granger was about as easy as getting Snape to like you.

And what was the harm? Him watching over her all those years? Getting along with Ron and Harry, Harry especially, often put her in hot water? Not that he ever wanted anything back but maybe it would be nice one day for her to hear, if none of this had happened, that he was always sure of what she was doing and willing to step up in any way he could. Especially after Voldemort and Harry died, Seamus became even more determined to keep Hermione safe.

He often wondered if she ever thought of the moment back in their firth year when she'd been trying to secretly get some medicine for an ailing first-year that was almost disfigured by the Carrow's punishment and she'd dropped her Hogwarts Identification Card used to keep the students in line? He wondered if she worried about it all night, he'd seen her upset, and if she ever figured out that he slipped out and just before the Carrows came by had time to kick her card out of the way and put his own down and take the fall for that medicine.

Everyone knew Hermione was strong, but he was a guy and they were no less merciless on Gryffindors, no matter their pain threshold. Seamus took it all; the lashings, the unforgivables, the searing marks across his skin and then tied them all up and walked into class the next day as if nothing had happened.

Dean had looked at him like he was mad, but Hermione never was touched at Hogwarts, because of his actions or not, and she never seemed to know it was him either. She didn't seem like the type to need a knight in shining armor, someone coming to her rescue. All the same, Seamus had done it anyway and would do it over and over again.

You just didn't simply get over a girl like Hermione Granger.

GREEN GAMES

"Merlin, Corner," Blaise said, gasping at his sides in half-laughter, half-amazement, "Another one?" He asked as a new Ravenclaw sealed letter floated down, "And I thought that Pansy or Pike would win most hated of the games."

"Yeah, well," Corner hissed angrily, tearing the letter up without even reading it. He didn't need to in order to guess the nasty words lying beneath.

"Soon they'll be howlers." Blaise said worriedly, scratching his head, staring at the ripped up shredded paper, "At that point, you will give away our position and I daresay we'll have to split up."

Corner laughed.

"You wish." He shook his head, "I wouldn't hold it past you, but you're still really weak from that stunt you pulled. Idiot." He rolled his eyes.

"I got so upset, I didn't know what I was doing." Blaise frowned, his brow creasing, "But…he's really dead?"

"I think the last eight angry letters I got from Ravenclaws exiling me from the brotherhood confirmed it." Corner said sourly.

"Poor kid." Blaise said, because although it was a killing game, it didn't mean on occasion, or whenever someone did die, he felt no sympathy or a pang of sadness for him or her. Blaise was human, despite being in a crowd of some arguably monstrous people. Michael seemed less concerned than Blaise did, for he responded with noncommittal grunt and a half-shrug.

"I don't blame them." Blaise added quietly, "You left him there with no food." He said, "It's so hot already…"He swallowed thickly, "He died in an awful way."

Michael turned back to see Blaise stumble over a log and went back, twisting his lips to the side.

"Eh. I mean, I was going to go back once we'd settled and-,"

"Please," Blaise guffawed, "The people up there won't believe that and stop sending you hate mail, and I don't believe it so you're doing neither of us any good." He said, and Michael snapped his mouth shut, grunting in slow admission.

"It's part of the game, I don't see why everyone's so up in arms about it." Michael said in objection after a long moment.

"Maybe because you didn't have to kill him?" Blaise offered, ducking out from his help to walk himself, even though his own legs felt like jelly, "He's a muggle-born, you're a half-blood. You two could have came out together." He said, "The arena that is."

"Hm." Michael shrugged, "Keep forgetting." He said with an acidic lit, but from his tone, it was clear he knew exactly what he was doing. Yes, as some had often said Blaise now agreed, he might have made a Slytherin, but then again he might be labeled as the worst kind of player and Merlin knew Slytherin didn't need that kind of stigmatism around it anymore.

Not that he was doing much to remedy it, of course, being here, but Blaise liked to think himself a guy pushed by circumstance, not by nature. In Hogwarts he hadn't been nice, but he'd been civil at least. He hadn't assumed much of anyone, because that just made you look like an idiot, and he'd kept to himself. He was pretty nice to the younger-years for he vividly recalled his palpable fear his first year arriving, and he kept a lot of that lot out of trouble from the Carrows as the years grew darker. Had he never been in the games, he would have gone on, continued his father's business profession, maybe become synonymous with a shark ideal or two, but overall just found a wife and had children and lived. He wouldn't have killed anyone, he wouldn't have had to done the awful sins he'd committed here. He didn't feel guilty about any of it though, not about what he learned of Ernie and killed him after trying to blackmail, not necessarily about maiming Duke, almost killing Hermione…none of it.

Because a small part of Michael was correct. It was the game and this is how it was played and it was foolish to wonder how in a different life, different time they would have acted for that life had slipped through their fingers the moments their names were plucked from those quartz bowls.

They were now creatures of the games, people shaped and molded by the rulers and stressors.

But that didn't mean Blaise liked Michael and his methods anymore than he had too, for deep down, he liked to imagine they all retained a little bit of themselves and if this is what he was like, it was what he retained and that was a downright scary thought. Michael, that is. For Blaise's own shortcomings? Well, his better part of him was clear in the sympathy felt for all the fallen, and if he got out of here, he would make it clear he mourned every death properly. And that wasn't just going to be an act, he would actually mourn.

They wandered through the brush for a while, and Blaise locked his jaw more than once, unable to say anything more to Michael. They never warned you what being with a person for so long could do to you; if Blaise was a worse person on the inside, he might be tempted to kill Corner just out of sheer annoyance or disgust at his disregard for life itself.

But that would be foolish; allies were worth their weight in galleons at this point. It was still too early even after a week to begin going solo, a tricky business. The amount of people still alive were still so spread out that all the sponsors were thinned between who they supported. Only when the sponsors could congregate more on a few people, one or two to each person, was the time to break apart. Blaise had studied the previous games with such attention and note taking to realize this.

"Dude…" Michael hissed, nudging his shoulder softly, crouching down. Blaise didn't crouch down, but instead craned his neck over the bushes and then jolted down quickly.

"I think he's asleep…" Blaise commented with a furrowed brow after a moment, and both men rose up. There was a small clearing filled with crunchy leaves and dead foliage. Leaning against a tree, knife across his lap loosely, was Justin. His fingers were stained with berry juice, and next to him was an impressive pile of navy-colored berries. Blaise raised an eyebrow; that must have taken hours of careful plucking to amass so much.

"What is he doing? Starting a jam business out of the arena?" Michael scoffed, shaking his head, "You think he's alone?"

"Yeah…" Blaise looked into the trees, "For now. Meaning we should work quickly." He said, pulling his knife from his side. Michael stopped him.

"No way. You got to kill Ernie last before I had a chance for fun…" He trailed off, instinctively itching his neck where the red scars remained from whatever the hell Malfoy had blown on them. Only after immersing themselves in the river and endured awful itching had Blaise recalled that water made it worse.

He had applauded Malfoy in that moment, but then again, to expect anything different from a fellow Slytherin would be dishonor on their house.

"Fine." Blaise held up his hands in surrender, offering his knife. Michael waved a hand, confidently stalking out inot the clearing. He picked up Justin's knife from his limp fingers, flipping it around for a bit of glamour for the cameras.

"This is much more fitting, ironic. Yeah?" He asked, the blade catching the light, and Blaise watched as Michael acted in a fluid motion; grabbing Justin's head and jerking him back, the slight fluttering of the boy's eyes as her perhaps began to awaken, but ultimately not enough as the knife was slide across the white neck like a knife through soft butter. Justin made a soft gurgling noise as the blood ran down his clothing, his eyes dulling and head falling to one side.

GREEN GAMES

That's the thing; not everyone gets a grand death story. Not every gets to have the moments before they die when they think, 'wow…this might be the end'. There are far too many that die like Justin; unconscious to the world.

There were great debates about his death for eons after in the reality show booths during and after the game. They replayed his death over and over, slowed down, some pointing to that slight fluttering to argue he was awake when it happened and most likely felt it. Others say it was a reflex and he was one of the so called 'lucky' that simply drifted between sleep and death in one journey.

They also questioned his sleeping during the day. It would never be absolute of course, the reason. Dead men tell no tales.

There was a faction that argued that he was assuming that because everyone slept normally during the night that this was the best time for people to hunt, and by reverse logic it was safer to sleep during the day. Others said he was merely being careless and not to attribute that much thought to an average boy, and he likely got tired and fell asleep during an inconvenient time. There was a third section that would strongly say he was a victim of the games; he'd simply given up and did not care when or why he slept.

Everyone is always so ready to assume deep strategically thinking while watching, as if the people playing are fake. It's hard to look at someone you've never met on a screen and think of them as real somewhere; their situation is as fake as they are. When watching the Green Games, as the victors will all say, they often forget that the game itself is tiring. It's meant to wear someone down. It's exhausting and many reach a point of desperation far before they're offed by another. Those that are known to become depressed feel it the worst; the hopelessness when in actuality, this one time, it's more than likely they won't come out alive. Unlike in life where there's a fair chance, this time, the odds are truly stacked against them.

His parents never commented, but somehow, everyone always knew from their faces, that perhaps yes, Justin had simply given up trying. To survive might have been worse. In one comment, something with a friend that was taken to the papers with a vicious destruction of friendship, his mother had stated 'perhaps that death was a greater mercy than we could have given.'

Hermione reflects later on a muggle novel she read, the title insignificant to her, sitting on that log, but that there are those in the world that are killers and that are die-ers. You can't be both, and often, you never have to find out. You're never placed in a situation that requires you to feel this.

Justin was a die-er. He was never meant to kill anyone; someone could see that from one of his first interviews. Those that knew this philosophy could have possible seen the end from the begging. Those that could survive, those that would. The game is dependent on the idea that there are more killers than die-ers, but that's not always he case.

And Hermione, Merlin she wanted to deny it, had found herself as a killer. If only so she didn't become a dier-er. Because the true horror was the moment you denied the latter, you had to accept the former.

GREEN GAMES

Michael raised a berry to his lip, and Blaise whacked it away.

"Dude, are you nuts?" Blaise asked, throwing out his hands, "Those could be poison, or have some sort of sleep something in them, or worse!" He said. Corner raised an eyebrow.

"Worse than poison?" He scoffed, picking the slightly bruised berry off the ground, "The thing with this game is, Blaise, its kill or live. And sometimes to live, you gotta risk dying. And man, these berries look good." Before Blaise could stop him again, Corner popped a berry into his mouth, wiping the juice that leaked from his lips against the back of his hand.

Suddenly his eyes bulged, and he grabbed his throat and made a chocking noises. Blaise rushed forward as he fell to his knees…and began to laugh.

"You're so damn gullible." He shook his head, standing, "They're just blue-berries." He said, and when Blaise still looked at him with distrust, "I swear. Not everything in this area is meant to kill us, but actually to let us live, you know. If they just wanted a free for all killing, they'd put no game and no nuts or berries or roots in. But they don't' want that, do they?"

"Well that could have been poisonous," Blaise muttered, cautiously taking a berry that Corner held out to him, "A week and not that many dead, you can see how the game-makers might want a little…something." He said, frowning.

"Well, Duke's gone." Michael waved his hand unconvincingly, "And these plants probably take a while to grow. They didn't plan how many would be killed and when. Seriously dude, it's fine." Michael said, picking up a handful and popping them into his mouth like popcorn.

Blaise ate one. Yes, they did taste like blueberries, he admonished silently, but then he frowned. Michael noticed, sighing.

"What now?" He demanded with irritation.

"They taste a little…off." Blaise said.

"They taste normal." Corner made a noise of irritation in the back of his throat, "You've probably never tasted them right off the bush a little un-ripened, have you?" He asked, and when Blaise never answered, he made gave a confident smile, "They're just a little new, but those are the best."

For once, Michael gave a genuine smile untainted by age, almost innocent, "You know," Michael began sliding against a tree to sit and deposit his bag, seemingly uncaring of the dead body to his left, "When I was younger my sister and I used to run through the forest to find these. I suppose I was even selfish then, saving the best to eat myself and giving the mushy ones to my mom to put into pie." He savored a berry, "You remember the oddest moments here." He added with thought.

Blaise hesitated, but eventually sat opposite him, grabbing the small tarp the berries had been on and putting it directly between them, because they were quite good… and Michael sure as hell wasn't going to get more than his share, he thought with sudden burst of unknown anger.

Staring at his partner, it rose. He watched as Michael reached over to grab two handfuls, and Blaise felt it spike like a flame up and over him.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" He asked hotly, more strongly than he should have been over a berry.

"Well you didn't even want it, you know. That's not fair!" Michael's tone was just as fueled, and both men were instantly on their feet, staring daggers at each other.

"You know," Blaise spit out, unable to keep his disgust for his partner at bay, "You're an awful person. I think if you won, people would riot."

"Oh, thanks Saint Blaise, because you're a real judge of character." Michael taunted.

"I'm a better person than you!" Blaise roared, and Michael jumped to his feet.

"You wanna make something of this, Zabini?" He asked, puffing out his chest, stalking over to his partner, ignoring as his feet tread over the pile, smashing them into liquid on the tap.

"Maybe I do." Blaise suddenly really did want to rip Michael limb from limb. Michaels' eyes narrowed with barley-restrained hatred.

"Come at me, bro."

GREEN GAMES

Seamus stared at the light on the window, the fuzzies that danced through the haze in the morning. He looked over to Dean, still sleeping, one leg thrown off the beds almost too small for them now.

Perhaps it was a right of passage, to grow out of your Hogwarts bed. He chuckled softly. His small exhale stirred Dean from his sleep, even though Ron's banging around and Neville's cold hadn't. He looked up, rubbing his eyes.

"What time is it? Where's everyone else?" He asked, looking around, grasping his sheets fearfully, "I didn't oversleep, did I?"

"I would 'ave woken ya had you slept too long." Seamus rolled his shoulders as he stood, "Ron's eatin' already and Neville is who knows where." He said. Dean frowned, sighing deeply.

"I suppose we should eat, shouldn't we?" He asked, almost timidly, and Seamus felt his chest tighten. His best friend was such a soft soul, an orchard child, that he couldn't imagine him surviving more an a couple days in such a game like the Green Games. If Dean could just get through this year without being picked…

"Yeah. So we can barf it all up after getting picked." Seamus replied crudely, not saying any of his internal fears to his friend. Dean didn't need his worry, his sympathies. Dean wouldn't thank him for that.

The common room was basically deserted. There was the edge of tension in the air around them, the sort that came every year on this day. Umbridge was already springing through the halls, looking as if Christmas had come early. It was like her to rejoice over the killing of who knew how many children, ridding a place of 'trouble-makers'. Umbridge was, as Seamus had realized a year or so ago, under the firm impression that whoever was chosen was chosen for a reason. Not that they deserved to show themselves as a hero, or whatnot, but because they deserved to die. Otherworldly or thisworldly Karma, Seamus wasn't sure. It was an awful thought, that was.

The Great Hall hummed with soft circles of conversation between everyone. The Grffyindor table was awfully empty looking these days, despite the influx of witches and wizards from conquests of other schools across Europe. Once, not so long ago, to be a Slytherin was a bad thing. Now, their populations had hardly been touched at all, and little children prayed they wouldn't be put into Gryffindor where they'd be made a target.

Seamus comforted a small muggle-born first year sobbing into his oatmeal before he sat.

When he did, Lavender was glancing at the small children with a sort of faraway expression.

"Perhaps it wouldn't be the worst," She said cautiously, "For them to be picked. Wouldn't last long, you know? Save them a lot of pain later in their life." She said, sighing as she tilted her cider around in her mug, "Either way, we'll probably be picked, won't we?" She asked, glancing around. Seamus had the faint idea that she spoke solely because no one else was.

Seamus looked around, his head slowly dropping. There weren't many of them left, he thought with a small frown. Harry gone in the first wave, Parvati last year- her twin had never quite been the same, and he saw her shaking over at the Ravenclaw table across the way. His eyes scanned over the remaining ones; he, Dean, Neville, Ron, Lavender and-

"Where's Hermione?" He asked, and he unconsciously grasped the knife in his hands tighter. Dean noticed, scowling at his response, but Ron replied.

"In the library. Always before the picks." He said, his shoulders sliding low. Seamus mentally chastised himself; he knew that. Maybe, just he had hoped, she'd appear here…with them.

"It could save her, Ron." Ginny hit Ron's arm with a tinge of anger, "Don't use that tone!"

"Nothing can save you if you're picked." Ron said sourly, balling a napkin and throwing it onto the table, "Excuse me…" He muttered, and stalked away to Luna. No one else seemed to notice, but Seamus had seen lately the pair had gotten unusually close. He was quite sure there was something between those two…

Seamus didn't know he was standing until Neville asked him what he was doing.

"I'm not hungry. Need to clear my head, ken." He said faintly.

Dean looked ready to join him, but Seamus turned sharply and left before he could offer himself up. He heard Lavender in a motherly tone telling him to sit and eat. It was general knowledge among the remaining Gryffindors that Dean was the weakest among them, least likely to survive something like this, even less likely than Lavender, the resident princess.

But if she was the princess, Hermione was undoubtedly the queen.

Seamus didn't realize where he was headed until he reached the wood doors of the library, and even without entering her could smell the waft of old books. It was, admittedly, a comforting scent and for that alone he could almost understand why Hermione would want to spend her time here.

He spied her right away, sitting scrunched up by the window, a whole pile of books stacked unevenly by her. He wondered if she'd been here all night, reading until the sun peeked over the lake. He wouldn't be surprised.

He was caught in an indecisive limbo on whether to disturb her or let her be. Speak with her and say something he'd most likely regret, and riding on that legendary Gryffindor bravery, or to turn around now and hope that fate would work in both of their best interests.

In the end, he turned, leaving her as she read. The last thing he wanted was for him to say his speech, and whatever her response, to leave with guilt or remorse. He had an awful feeling he knew he was to be picked. It felt like a dead weight in his chest, pushing him down and sinking his fists tightly into the pockets of his robes.

"I shoulda called mum one last time…" He muttered to himself, shaking his head, "Just a friendly call without the thought of these games and me being picked."

"You so sure about that?" Ron asked from behind him, and he turned to see his classmate coming near to him, close to where all the students soon would be pouring into the court-yard. Seamus watched through the carved out spaces in their castle halls where the platform was being set up, where Mr. Malfoy was arriving, shaking hands and Draco was at his feet, looking emotionless. Seamus wanted to wring the neck of that little bastard; he probably wasn't worried about being picked at all, was he? No of course not, he was 'special' to Lord Voldemort.

He recalled Ron had asked him something.

"Thought." He shrugged, "I just…feel it."

"Me too." Ron agreed, "I mean, besides me? Ten people? Less that could be besides me?" He counted on his fingers, shrugging.

"Where's Luna?" Seamus asked, and Ron seemed unsurprised that he'd asked about her. It seemed at this point he was weary of denying or didn't care or hadn't thought anyone would notice, but maybe was glad someone did.

"With her friends." Ron said a little sadly, "We said our goodbyes last night, just in case…" He trailed off, swallowing thickly.

"So how long have you two been…you know?" Seamus asked, motioning with his hands.

"Since winter break. We tried to ignore it, it's an awful time to fall in love, but…" Ron gave a sheepish smile, a rare sight in these times, "It's what it is."

"I'm happy for you two." Seamus said, just as he heard the bells tolling time to gather, "Seriously." He said, patting his friend's back.

"But there's this…" Ron waved his hand, and it fell to his side with stilted movements, "And we might not…" He once again, trailed off.

Soon the area was filled with all the students, only the Slytherins looking on with wide smiles. Some he knew not even to be awful people, but when you had security of staying alive, it was something he supposed one would boast over. Merlin, he'd probably too, but truth was, he was very expendable.

He saw Hermione enter and throw a smile in his direction. He smiled back, but he realized after a long moment it had been for Ron. Seamus wasn't even sure she saw him over Ron's towering height and he felt a flash of jealously rise up, but he stifled it.

Dean found him, rubbing his hands together, but Ron was almost sure he didn't know what he was doing.

"Seamus, if I get picked-," Dean began, but Seamus paused him.

"No, don't. You…you won't. And if you do, I'll go up there for you."

He could, after all, they were both Gryffindor males. Half-bloods to, if you got really specific, although Seamus didn't even know at that time it would matter. Dean's face scrunched.

"No, not for me, don't." He said, "If I get picked, I'll manage." He said, but Seamus knew he wouldn't. Yet he nodded in agreement all the same, knowing in his heart he would offer himself for his best friend at a moment's notice. That was what a best friend did, eh?

Seamus didn't even fully hear the whole speech and all. He was focused on Hermione, a couple feet in front of him and to his left, watching closely to her facial expressions. He did grin, though as it was announced the Slytherin would be picked more formally this year. Marcus Flint was only in because he demanded- not even volunteered- to go up.

And Merlin, 24. Twenty-four students was a blow by any means. It was sick, and awful, and Seamus felt ill. How could anyone justify the straight up murder of so many of them?

Ernie was picked first, and Seamus felt sad about it. They'd grown up in similar conditions, farms and all, and they'd bonded over their laughter and experiences of working a warm (which some, most, didn't know a smidgen about).

Seamus felt increasingly numb as the rest of the Hufflepuff men were chosen, and the Ravenclaws. Then she went to the next bowl- Gryffindor men. Seamus couldn't remember feeling a time when like this before; the sweating, the hear-beating, the gurgle of almost a cry that rose in his throat as Umbridge's pudgy fingers went to the pure-blood, and hell, it wasn't even his bowl.

And it was Ron. Ron looked horrified, his face paled as if all the blood had slipped through his body. He was grabbed more than escorted, for it seemed the use of his limbs had been paused.

He was hardly up there when Seamus saw the next white envelope, and Merlin he knew before it was called.

"Seamus Finnegan!"

"Fuck, no." Dean whispered beside him, and Seamus walked himself up there. Once there, Ron shared a sad look with him, one that said they both had known, but he wished neither had been right. It was a real hard look, unreadable to anyone else. Colin was picked next, and Seamus could pick out the only survivors of their Gryffindor male grade- Neville and Dean- now standing shoulder to shoulder with the same blank, half-relieved, half-dismayed looks.

When the Slytherins were picked, and Draco was the pureblood, Seamus saw Ron snigger beside him.

"I hope his dad has to watch him die an excruciating death," He snarled, "It's only fair."

Seamus, a little kinder, didn't share exactly the same sentiments. Yet the dark world beginning with Harry's death and surviving without him, or Hermione as their friendship had shattered had made Ron a colder person.

The girls picked Seamus hardly knew, they flew in through one ear and out the other until Luna was picked. Ron almost seemed to collapse beside him.

"No, no, no…" He murmured incessantly under his breath, "Please, someone take her place…" It was a prayer in vain, because she was escorted up calmly, and she looked so at peace with it all, Seamus didn't know how she did it. He looked at Ron's face and saw just agony indescribable, the look of a man who has almost lost everything, a love probably too deep to have been able to survive something like this. For, as it were, those sorts of feelings seemed to pull Umbridge's fingers most aptly to the name-cards.

For this reason, Seamus feared.

It was a cruel trick, making the Muggle-born, Gryffindor, Girl bowl be chosen as absolute last. Seamus felt as though he was going to have a heart attack right on stage, he was more afraid than when his own name was chosen. And then, she spoke.

"Artemis Lapun!"

The world slowed in those moments. For a second, Seamus felt like crying for joy. Hermione was free; he wasn't but yes, thanks Merlin she was free and could live a long happy life.

He did feel slightly bad seeing the age of the girl, but in place of Hermione? He sought her out, and saw her moving.

He wanted to cry 'no!' but his voice was gone, and she was volunteering before Seamus had time to fully be happy she was safe, because just like that, she was not. In that moment, his legs felt like jelly, and it took everything to stay standing up. Ron looked over to see Hermione, and since Seamus was to his right, he saw his face too.

Ron's gaze didn't make it to Hermione, not at first, for he saw what Seamus looked like. Ron was still hurt, in intense pain of knowing Luna was chosen, and in that moment, Seamus was sure when Ron looked at him, it was like he was looking at a mirror image.

There was a moment of confusion, the furrowing of the brows as his brain raced to connect the dots. Then, there was a small intake of breath as he connected it all together, the shock replaced by sadness.

"Oh, Seamus." His voice was soft, almost pitying, and he frowned deeply. For in that moment, Ron saw it all; he saw it clearer than anyone else did.

"She doesn't know." Seamus whispered back painfully, brokenly.

"I guessed." Ron nodded solemnly, "I'm sorry."

But his apology fell deaf on Seamus' ears. They'd made the choices, and Seamus supposed he'd have to live with his. He couldn't help, though, looking over and saw a tear slipping down Hermione's face as if the full reality of everything crashed down on her.

That hurt the most. It really, really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, lots of Seamus and two deaths! And the day's not even over yet. How many more will die on this eight day? Only I know ;)


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back! Ugg, you'd think now that I'm out for the summer I'd have more time to write, but apparently not ;) My parents have a ton of chores for me, as it is, urg. But it's here, it's out, and there's a lot of revelations and answers in this one...and probably just as many questions.

The lights on the stage were hot, like little suns plucked from the atmosphere and shoved into tin cans.

And this is what all Seamus' memories came back to; fire.

From the very beginning of his life, the time before magic even, the flickering flames had fascinated him like nothing else. He'd felt connected to this element, in a way unlike anything he'd ever known. His mother said he was a pyromaniac, Seamus preferred 'flame enthusiast'.

Because he was a maniac anything; true he'd lit all sorts of things on fire as a child to see how it burned, but that was the extent of it all, ya ken? He never thought, 'hmm-what would happen if I set this building with a thousand people inside on fire?' It was all harmless that he set flame to, never animals by god.

Who would have ever guessed his mother's most hated trait of his would save his ass here? McGonagall had quickly helped him refined wandless magic with his broken hand, as much as she could, and with the help of his lesser hand- cupping just so- he could hold a fire between his hands. He could set the ground on fire and cook food over it, or he could let it flicker in his fingers and warm his whole body up. During the winter night, Seamus had never been happier for this gift.

But, enough of that, he thought with a flick of his head sideways, as if banishing the thought to the side. Ah, yes, he had been recalling his third most vivid memory; the interview.

He'd been like this for a while, wandering aimlessly, and recalling events in his head to his best ability. What he'd tell the press if he ever made it out alive, what he wished everyone else could hear because, well, he wasn't an author of great skill, but there were some parts he thought worth knowing.

The lights were hot.

He remembered this vividly because before he'd even stepped on the sage, he'd begun to sweat through his suit, and not the nervous-sweating way. Things like this didn't bother Seamus; talking to one of the work journalists in front of a thousand people? Not exactly like having to look the Dark Lord in the face every day, knowing he murdered friends of yours. Many, and you were likely next.

He swallowed, and shielded his eyes to peer out into the crowd, giving a low whistle of the crowded theater room.

"Mr. Finnegan, the chairs are over here, dear!" The high-pitched trill of Rita cooed to him, and Seamus couldn't help but throwing on a dashing smile to the gathered people.

"Just looking at my fans, ken?" He said, strolling to her and sitting in an utmost relaxed position into the chairs, leaning back into the plushy sofa.

"Ken? I think you mean Rita, hun." Rita gave a little laugh, and Seamus chuckled over her.

"Sorry lass. Forget it's not common here; means 'you know' from my lands. Makes no sense people are named it, downright confusing!" Seamus said, easily forgetting there was a crowd here. Sure, if he had to speak to anyone, Rita was a right up nasty choice, but she at least was good at keeping a conversation going.

"Oh, silly me." Rita waved her obnoxious feathered quill, "But I learn something new everyday. Now before we continue, shall we see your score?" She asked, waving her hands to the black screen behind them.

"By all means." Seamus shrugged, "Now, this is measuring attractiveness, eh?" He teased.

"Well," Rita's finger paused on the button, "If that were the case, I'm sure you'd get straight tens." The roar of females in the crowd behind him confirmed her theory, and Seamus did at this point feel a flush underneath his skin. He played it off casually though, loosening his tie, and nodding. He glanced down at the attire, unknowingly wincing, but luckily no one seemed to catch it. His suit was black, perfectly fit, course, but with a scarlet tie around his neck just so. He knew it was to balance out the house colors, but like this, he couldn't help but think like it was the outfit of the grim, a noose tied too tightly already. When he finally remembered to speak, it came out a bit shaky.

"Just makin' sure."

Rita glanced at him curiously, for he was sure a woman as schooled in reading others to get the juiciest facts wouldn't have missed that tone change, but there was a softness in her eyes that held it back. Her eyes when to where his fingers still paused on the tie, as if she understood his thoughts.

"Well, let's see your score." She said, and Seamus watched as she clicked the button. The screen lit up with a bright six. Seamus' heart dropped, but there was a hiss of dissatisfied viewers from the back. Even Rita's forehead crinkled in confusion, turning to him.

"So," she said, swiveling both of them back toward the audience, "Fair score?"

Seamus paused; it was unfair, he thought, awfully unfair. Corner had gotten a six, and so far he seemed totally useless without a wand. With the wandless magic, maybe he had a chance, but as of now, he was an easy kill. So yes, Seamus was bloody pissed about this. Instead, he rolled his shoulders in a casual roll.

"Me hand isn't too helpful, I suppose." He said, holding up the still gauzed appendage, "Leaves me a little bit in trouble." He said.

"And how got that…?" Rita leaned forward.

"Training. Blaise got a good crack when he crushed it. Not killin' though, so still fair game, that's what it seemed though." Seamus frowned at the memory, and Rita's hand went to he lips in a perfect 'O'.

"Didn't they fix it? Merlin knows all it takes is a spell, bit of Skele-Grow?"

"I wondered." Seamus bit his tongue. Oh, he could make an absolutely biting and awful comment about these games, but that would portray him as bitter and unlikable, so instead he swallowed it like an uncomfortable pill, "Or maybe it's all a ruse. I'm hiding a magic weapon behind these bandages just waitin' to appear." He laughed, wiggling his fingers or as much as he could with his injured hand. This dissipated the growing tension in the crowd, as a wave of small laughs sprinkled the auditorium.

"So, Seamus, what do you think is your best strategy?" Rita said, and the ugly feeling in his chest vanished once again. She asked game-related questions for a good portion of their time, and Seamus answered conservatively but attempted to throw in jokes at any time. Some of them were awful, on the level of 'dad-jokes' but it still encouraged laughs that made him smile in turn.

Finally, and he should have known it was coming somewhat, Rita gave a wide grin that indicated something more than just testing if he knew this plant from that plant.

"So, I think we're all dying to know about your love life, Seamus, am I right?" Rita turned to the crowd, waving her hands upward as the roar grew louder, "If we look at the polls, you are voted most attractive by a large margin, Seamus."

"Well, that's pretty great." Seamus chuckled nervously, attempting to squash those feelings, even though this was territory he for sure did not want to enter, "If I survive this, on my job application under achievements I can put 'most attractive contestant'. I'm sure that'll get me a job right away."

"Well, anyone would be an idiot not to hire someone like you, Seamus." Rita said, as if assuring him, "But I think the question was implied…is there a special someone at home, in the crowd maybe, you're doing this for? Hoping to win for?"

Seamus felt his throat tighten. He was willing to die for Hermione to live, honestly. He felt his eyes travel slightly to where the backstage doors were, wondering if Hermione was watching this now. What was she thinking? Was it about him and a girl? Not? Did she care?

And would it be right of him to say anything, like this, right now? He knew those bloody Muggle tragedy books like Romeo and Juliet; the 'star-crossed lovers' were a hit with the girls, yet…

…it wasn't fair to Hermione. To force her into something. If they were going to be together, it was because she goddamn wanted it. Not a ruse, not a lie.

His love life, basically non-existent as no other girl captured his attention like she, and frankly between his last year of school and now this, when was he supposed to meet a bloody bird even if he wanted? But oh, the way he loved, that was strong.

He swallowed thickly, and Rita was deeply curious. He opened his mouth, almost tempted, wondering if it would spill out without his permission, but instead, a white lie slipped out, just as he wanted.

"No, there's no one. Guess that means I'd be up for grabs after this, girls." He said, and his heart twisted painfully. Hermione was already unusually cold to him. What if this sent her away farther because she believed it? In that moment, Seamus threw away everything he'd promised himself on the train.

He had to tell Hermione tonight, she should now. He should have the chance to tell her, right? That was fair, eh? She could still reject him. She was welcome to, if she so wanted.

"Well, Seamus," Rita recaptured his attention, "I think you've just made a whole lot of witches extremely happy."

"I suppose if I win, I'll owe my fans and sponsors sumthin' cus this isn't a thing you can win alone." He said, dropping his tone into serious territory for a moment. Rita nodded agreeably.

"Sponsors are vital, as everyone knows." She agreed, nodding to the crowd, no doubt where men with money were making notes about who to bet on, "Seamus it seems we are nearly out of time. I think you know the question that's coming?"

"My guesses on the winners, geeze," Seamus scratched his chin. Hermione, obviously, hopefully, Merlin-willing.

"So, Hermione- who else?" Rita questioned and Seamus realized he'd spoken out loud, and his face blushed. He hoped no one saw it, and he hadn't added the last bits to it. It seemed not, though, because Rita wasn't looking like a lion gazing at a gazelle at a halfway admittance, and the crowd was reacting normally to this announcement.

"Pure-blood?" Seamus wheezed, having actually thought about it little, "Ron I suppose. I've never won a bloody game of chess against him, you know, so if anyone can outplay this game, it's Ron."

The crowd clapped, and they both rose.

"Thank you Seamus. I'm sure you'll have many rooting for you." She said, shaking his hand, and Seamus nodded numbly. As soon as he was off stage, he took in deep and painful breaths, yanking the tie from his neck. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so ill, but he looked up to see the door slightly ajar to the waiting room, Hermione in his perfect line of sight.

Pressing his fore-head to the cold comfort of the metal support beam backstage, watching as the next tribute was greeted by Rita, he felt his heart thud fast, watching Hermione's small movements, the changing of her facial expression in response to the interview. She'd been watching, of course, it was logical. She'd seen it all, processed it all. He'd lied to her; not directly, but sort of still.

"Damn, Seamus," He whistled to himself under his breath, closing his eyes, "This girl will be the death of5 you."

There was a crack up ahead. Seamus snapped his fingers, making the fire disparate into the wind. He got down low, eyes narrowed to see through the foliage. All he could see were people moving, but fighting or not was unclear. They were to far away anyway to really be sure, a good length of forest between them. Until he heard a very plaintive voice, clear as day, he was tempted to turn around and leave this to progress, as it should naturally.

"Hermione, please no!"

Seamus' eyes widened in shock. He'd found her; he'd finally found her! He almost jumped up, tearing through the trees. He crashed through the clearing a short time later, and found it empty, except for a person collapsed into a ball in the ground.

"Hermione?"

GREEN GAMES

Although Hermione was confident Elizabeth was not dead, the question of where to look for the tiny blonde Ravenclaw alluded Hermione completely. This arena was huge, and she could have managed to hide literally anywhere. She was good at that, Hermione thought with a rueful smile. She was really talented at shoving herself into seemingly painful contortions and curling away into the shadows. She had a good idea of people and their line of sights too; somehow their gazes already slide past her in these times. Hermione herself had done it multiple occasions back at camp, when everyone prodded her to practice, prove she was really good at hiding as she said she was.

"If I can't find her, Merlin, no one can." Hermione said out loud, and was all at once caught between frowning and smiling. She frowned because if she, Hermione, thought she was at all skilled in observations and was often so easily tricked by her, how would Elizabeth ever be found? Perhaps she had to trust the young girl more likely, if Hermione came through, Elizabeth would say or do something, reveal herself. It was the best theory Hermione had.

The smile came with a wave of relaxation. If Hermione couldn't find her, no one would. Pansy might be thorough and deceptive and a thousand other Slytherin-traits, but she was painfully thick at times. Hermione recalled vividly in potions how often she'd miss a direction written right out in front of her, or mix up one plant with another.

Speaking of plants…Hermione's gaze snapped backward and she shuffled back to the branch she'd just passed. Berries. Delicious, lush, ripe blue colored berries hanging as though it was just waiting for her. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to recall if any berries that were considered dangerous were similar to blueberries. Nightshade, for one, but Hermione ruled that out swiftly. Nightshade didn't commonly grow in woody and shrubby areas, and this plant was most certainly shrub-like. From what she could recall, few other berries that were dangerous she'd read about, and almost all had vided other colors than this.

Hesitantly, Hermione ate one.

It was sweet, like a blueberry was meant to be. There was the sniggering reminder, though, that the taste was just a slightly bit off. It wasn't overwhelmingly obvious, but it was like biting into one bad seed in a handful…difficult to pinpoint, and with other flavors, almost completely overshadowed.

Perhaps, Hermione thought with a slight shrug, these berries were a little past ripe. Nevertheless, she'd be an idiot to deny herself these treats, for to Hermione they were akin to the nectar of the Gods. She filled her fingers full until they were dyed a vivid shade of violet, and Hermione took an odd and unexpected sense of glee from that. It was utterly normal; like she was taking a stroll through the forest, and had the luxury to dirty her fingers, being able to lick and savor the flavor because before long, the berries from this bush had been demolished.

As she walked, sucking on the tips of her fingers, she chastised herself for not leaving some for later or even packing them up. But they'd been so delicious, so tempting, and so few. It hadn't been the worst thing, admittedly, and Hermione squashed her inner-voice to allow herself a couple rare moments of treating herself in this god-awful place.

She yawned soon, a great big one that felt like a weight had been lifted off her. Odd, she hadn't walked that far, and she had been careful to get enough sleep. People made absolutely obtuse mistakes when they were lacking sleep.

There was shouting a head. Sounds of a commotion, a conflict. It should be noted on any other occasion, despite how in normal situations Hermione's curiosity might have driven her, in such intense situations like a death-match, she would have steered clear. But it was as if something alighted in her brain, which should have been a sign right from the start, that was pulling her to see and participate in this violence, this raw form of expression.

She came upon a clearing, and her first observation was Justin, sagging against a tree, deathly pale, blood only just drying in a morbid necklace dripping down his skin.

"Justin…" Hermione croaked hoarsely, quietly, and found herself angry. Not at him, but at the games itself, that it seemed he'd been dead hours and he was still here, eyes staring off into nothing. Wouldn't his parents want him? Didn't he deserve that decency? Merlin, these ingrates controlling the game were the worst types, weren't they?

Hermione's head suddenly snapped toward the commotion, as if a small and invisible person had quite abruptly reminded her why she came here in the first place.

Peering through the bushes, she saw Corner and Blaise going at each other with unbridled violence. Corner's lip was split open and it looked like he was missing a tooth, and Blaise looked as though an elephant had pummeled him. They seemed too into their aggression to recall they were wizards and could have the possibility to use magic on each other to inflict further damage, but there was something so primal about the way they fought that it blew that small flame within her into a forest fire through her body.

Looking at Blaise, at Corner, the men who had killed Ernie and Hannah and let her be separated from a goddam terrified thirteen-year-old enraged Hermione. It made her irrationally furious, a kind of angry that just exploded with no warning. The emotions that funneled out were so intense Hermione thought she was going to barf. She'd never been so single-handedly upset at anyone, not with such rage, such wanton need for carnage. She wanted to hurt them, she wanted to make them cry, she wanted to kill them.

She wanted to be terrifying.

She felt as though she was ripping through her skin to a better, more terrorizing self as her animangus sprung forth unexpectedly. When Hermione leapt into the clearing, she was a sleek and snarling panther. Blaise was in her way first. He had better reflexes than she expected, dodging her first swung claw. She was also awkward in this body; like a newborn foal on shaky legs trying to work all his muscles and tendons. The second swipe was much more controlled, and much more powerful as the glimmering claws scored across his chest.

As such a creature of hunting prey, Hermione didn't take the moment to play with her kill. She saw the realization of death, the fear, and the light of life flash over his eyes as she tore his neck apart, her fangs dripping crimson, her whiskers highlighted by Blaise's blood.

The cannon sounded.

Hermione turned, growling, stalking over to Corner who was blubbering incoherently, backing up onto a tree.

He too was easily pinned beneath her massive midnight paws, but he did something completely unprecedented.

"Hermione. Hermione, please…please…" His voice was quiet, quivering, almost too soft to hear, then more forcefully, "Hermione, please no!" Michael Corner was terrified, ugly tears running down his face, and at any other moment, Hermione would have loved the sight. But now?

Hermione paused. How did he know it was she? She hadn't revealed herself in the bushes prematurely, had she? Or was it something else? Her eyes? Her stalking? This moment of confusion opened the gateway of the reality of Hermione, which banged through her head in a most vicious storm.

She'd killed Blaise. She'd killed him painfully and fucking enjoyed it. She had literally ripped his chest open, severed his neck, and licked her panther lips that were still saturated in his blood.

What had she done?

And Corner, she looked at him as her bulking figure backed up, he was a real coward and an ass. But she couldn't be, wasn't, and shouldn't be a killer. She let him go. She watched him scramble away, running as fast as she could.

Jarring herself back to human form was a worse experience, for as she fell on a mixture of what she'd later realize was the berries smashed and the pool of blood, she was so utterly disgusted in herself she couldn't stand it. As her tongue darted out to lick her parched hips and it came back with the acute tang of copper, and Hermione turned and vomited hard. She raised her fingers to her face, almost too close, and realized that Blaise's blood was so deep under her fingernails she doubted she'd ever get it out.

"I'm a monster…" She whispered, curling into a fetal ball, "I'm a monster…" She repeated, feeling her sanity curl in on itself. She shut her eyes tightly, shaking her head against her chest.

"I'm dreaming, I have to be…my god…"

There was a tap on her shoulder. Hermione startled, her eyes opening wide, staring back at Seamus' face.

"Hermione? I've been calling your name, you okay, lass?" He asked. His face was so freaking genuine that it killed her. How could he even stand to look at her, how could he not want to spit at her in disgust because it didn't take a genius to see Blaise's body and her bloody hands and just know. Oh, Merlin, Justin was here too? Did he see? Didn't Seamus see what she'd done? Did he care? Didn't he think she was a monster, for killing two people? That's what he had to be assuming, right?

Hermione fumbled for her words, like marbles filling her mouth up to her lips, her bloody fingers shaking as she held them up, almost begging him to see. Begging him to pass the judgment on her she rightfully deserved.

"Hermione…" His eyes widened, and he backed up, and Hermione felt like it was meant to happen. He put her on a pedestal; she knew that, he deserved to know, "Are you hurt? You're bleeding."

"You don't understand!" Hermione finally found her voice, and flinched hard as a droplet of rain sprinkled on her nose, "I…I…"

She turned, but found the clearing empty of bodies. They must have been removed. How long had she been curled up? It could have been minutes; hours and she wouldn't have known the difference.

But she couldn't find the heart to tell him, she could force the ugly words from her lips. I killed Blaise, speaking it truthfully, would be her crucifixion.

Instead, slipping on her feet and rubbing her arms lathered in the mixture of blood and berry juice, Hermione stumbled away.

"Hermione!" Seamus ran after her, and Hermione saw him grab her bags from the clearing as he went. In only a couple short seconds, the weather had changed from light sprinkling to a heavy downpour soaking her to the bone. It might wash away some of the blood, but the residue of the berries left a stain across her arms.

"Seamus…" Hermione shook her head, backing up, "I'm a monster…please…" She begged, and Seamus frowned, confused, unable to connect what she was saying.

"I don't…" He said, grabbing forward, but his hand slipped through her arm because of the mixture that still remained, and he wiped it swiftly on his pants. The second time when he grabbed her arm, not tightly, but almost in a loving way that made Hermione want to vomit because he didn't know the ground shook.

There wasn't any time to think, no time to run, just time to see a mirror of terror flashing in their eyes as the floor underneath them collapsed, sending them into a free-fall. It didn't last long, for not more than a breath after, Hermione hit an underground river…hard.

The initial shock of slamming into a roaring body of water with such force was replaced by the shock the icy-cold water siphoning the warmth out as it invaded every sense. She gasped, and water flowed into her mouth, and she tired to dispose of it, but it slithered down her throat. She saw Seamus' head bobbing up a head, and reached forward out to him. His eyes were wild with a sense of unknown, like a child in place he didn't belong.

"The current's too swift, love!" He called as the river grasped them and swung them under caves and caverns where the light was gone. She began to count in her head; they had fifteen minutes, less than that. And that time was ticking away like a bomb.

"We'll die if we don't get out!" Hermione yelled back, her disgust at herself overshadowed by her will to stay alive. If she had been thinking more clearly, perhaps a death herself wouldn't have been a worse thing-a reasonable price for her crimes. But Seamus, he surely didn't deserve to die, and he was flapping aimlessly. He didn't know the first thing about shock or coldness or any of it.

Hermione was roughly jostled against a ledge of a cliff, and grabbed onto a rock sticking out, her fingernails digging roughly into the soft clay. Seamus nearly yanked her arm out of her socket as he passed almost too late, but managed to tether himself to the ledge as well.

"We go up. There's a ledge, I think." Hermione said, her teeth beginning to chatter. Seamus made it up first, which didn't surprise Hermione, for he was more adept at outdoor actives than she was, but she had to wonder how his hurt hand was holding up. It didn't even seem to bother him, not as he reached out, grasping Hermione firmly and pulling her up toward them.

"A cave." Seamus breathed in relief, stepping forward, but stumbling.

"Not tonight. We need…rest…" Hermione rubbed her head, "Warmth…" She felt her vision begin to blur, and a cold shiver overtook her.

"We're out, yeah, why am I still so cold?" Seamus questioned, his shoulders blanched.

"That water was freezing. We need to take our clothes off." Hermione said, the logical part of her brain switching over control without a moment to spare, and her numb fingers began to nudge almost helplessly at the zippers.

"What?" Seamus looked struck.

"We'll freeze in…in this…" Hermione trembled, turning around as she realized what she'd just said, a fresh blush rising to her face, "B…best way to live is to get out of these wet clothes and get warm in the sleeping bags."

Seamus grunted, "Right, right." He said, and she was grateful he was mature about it, or he was too cold to care. Already she could feel the results of hypothermia creeping in. She began to babble intellectually, trying to think of the mind or matter.

"We're lucky we got out when we did. Only a couple more minutes and we would have been unconscious and likely died. Hypothermia is really scary, you know. It's hard to even tell…because you get so…" Hermione struggled for her words, "Sluggish. Hard to think. We shouldn't move around much…our internal organs…they're sensitive right now. We need to lay down, elevate our feet…we might be critical…"

"Hermione!" Seamus' voice interjected into her train of thought.

"Yes?" She said, almost turning, but stopping herself.

"Do we…ah…take it all off?" He asked, and Hermione could hear his voice increase, a squeak ending his question.

"Well, it doesn't matter, I suppose." Hermione snapped herself back into a better state, trying to drive off the fogginess, "I had two sleeping bags. I saw you had it when you climbed up."

"About that…" She turned around fully, her clothes still partially on, to see Seamus in just his knickers. He was looking at one sleeping bag still snugly roped under her bag…and the rope supposed to be holding the other roughly snapped off. Realization dawned on her, and she took a deep breath.

"Oh." She said smally, licking her lips, "Well, it's up to you. I mean, mine aren't that wet, I'll keep them on. We both have to share, then."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll sleep outside it," Seamus' eyebrows kinked.

"No!" Hermione said, the force of her words scaring even her, "If you do, you die. It's a roomy sleeping bag, it's fine." She said, her breath shortening.

"Are you convincing yourself or me?" Seamus questioned, a raised eyebrow. Hermione snapped the bag away, laying it out.

"Turn around while I get undressed," She demanded, "I'll let you know when you can get it too."

He did as she asked, and she stripped down, and cautiously pushed herself into the downy warmth of the sleeping bag. Already the heat cocooning her gave her a sense of relief. She pressed herself as far as she could against the front of it, giving Seamus the back area.

"Okay…" She whispered, and she averted his eyes as he entered. There was a fair breath of space between them, but it was obvious both were straining to keep it. It wasn't awful though, and Hermione was determined to stay in these positions, but eventually, after lying there for a time she couldn't say, she felt their bodies slowly relax into each other-his chest pressing up against her back. It's not so bad, she thought, he was being an obvious gentleman and this was about survival.

Yet, there was a way his scent intoxicated her. The feelings as his arm brushed across her bare skin sent sparks down her body, tingling at the base of her stomach in a way she hadn't felt about many people before. She did her best to ignore it, but there was a pull, making her want to brush against him more. It wasn't like he was unattractive, but the opposite. Seamus had grown into a very attractive man, and Hermione had noticed. Her disgust about the idea of sleeping at him back at their first night here wasn't because it would disgust her to do so, but more because she was so upset at the time that going from here to there made her feel sick.

Seamus suddenly got stiff, backing away a bit. She heard him give a soft grunt of frustration, and she sighed too.

"I think we're, uh, not getting sleep tonight." He said quietly, and Hermione nodded.

"We're out of the danger, but I wouldn't…I think we should still share heat. It's cold out there. Is your hand okay?" She asked, finding it odd to converse with someone you had your back too.

"Well 'nuff. Little sore." He said, but from his guarded tone, Hermione was sure it hurt a heck of a lot more than he was letting on. His breath was hot on her neck.

Ignore it, Hermione. "So…" She said springy, shifting away too, and shrugged, "We have a bit of time. I don't think we're going to be found anyway. Time for some…answers." She said cautiously.

"Anythin' you want to ken," Seamus' reply was a heavy breath, almost a prayer, "You deserve least that."

"The train." Hermione said instantly. Seamus gave a long whistle.

"Suppose I was expecting' that, but it's…I…it's hard to all explain the feelin's." He said.

"Well," Hermione said dryly, "We have nothing but time." She said, and bit her lip to keep herself from adding a long story would distract her from whatever she shouldn't have been feeling toward Seamus right then. She was probably hallucinating it, it simply wasn't proper!

"To get it out of the way, Ron and Luna are together."

Hermione felt betrayed, "What?" She demanded.

"Since this break." She felt Seamus nod solemnly behind her, "I only figured it out the day of the pickings." Hermione frowned; how had she not seen it? Sure, Ron and her weren't buddy-buddy anymore, but still-

"And they were both picked." Hermione's voice broke, "How awful."

"I was the only one who knew. Luna's opinion was why stir the pot when it's already made? Ron wanted everyone to know, that they were going to tear something apart. But in the compartment…it might o' been something bigger than just those two."

He gave Hermione a moment, and she felt something small crush inside of her, and she felt sick.

"Pregnant." The word felt foreign on her tongue, "Luna…you're…oh my god."

"That's sort of the reaction I had." Seamus said weakly, "Or, at least, they didn't know. We were tryin' to figure it out, ya ken, on the train. They did the deed a couple nights before the picks, no protection- stupid, I know, hold your comment- and Luna said her periods were uneven but she'd forgotten a spell to prevent it anyway. Its more…there's a real possibility."

"But why shut me out?" Hermione's voice was small, not so angry anymore.

"They only told me. It's hard, knowin' secrets, not able to tell anyone. Besides, what would you have done, a spell? It was too early to tell. Just add…anxiety to an already stressful situation. And I guess, I…I needed to talk to them alone. Ron wanted to go out, gun blazin', tell Rita that Luna was pregnant. What would that do? Voldemort tried to kill Harry when he was a wee thing, likely he'd care not about an innocent child…Harry was innocent. And…they're both purebloods."

"Only one will survive." Hermione whispered thickly, she'd always know of course, but now…"How awful." She felt deep agony for Ron, for Luna, for the possibility of their unborn child.

"We needed to discuss, man to man, how to keep Luna safe. She wouldn't hear of it, ya ken, she's so…Luna. But Ron? If he survived, and she didn't? He'd be….broken."

"He already is." Hermione said softly, "Or he mended himself with her. I see it now." She nodded thoughtfully, "I forgive you." She added.

Seamus shifted against her back, "Are all women's bras so uncomfortable to lay next to?" He asked suddenly, and Hermione stifled a laugh.

"Usually with a guy next to a girl, it's off totally. I mean, you can unhook it…it you need to. Not like you'll see anything, we're up to our necks here…and I would hate for you to be uncomfortable."

It sounded as if Seamus had choked on his own saliva. She felt his tentative hand reach out to unhook it. She was about to warn him it might be a little tricky to do one-handed on the first try, but it snapped off with seemingly no trouble.

"How did you do that?" Hermione couldn't help but blurt out, "One-handed?"

"Is it usually hard?" He asked, and she could feel a tremor of a laugh pass through his body.

Hermione changed the subject, "You said you lied in the interview. I've been thinking about that too."

There was a heavy silence.

"Shit." Seamus cussed, "Can't lie, can I?"

"I'd rather you not."

"I kept lookin for a right time to tell you, and maybe there just isn't one, and this surly isn't it, but you asked so I have to tell you. The question, that someone…that I like…it's you. I wasn't goin to say it all over and make you have to answer to it, not when ya didn't want to, but I mean, if we're going to die I can't lie to ya. I shouldn't. Gryffindor bravery and all and-," Seamus began to ramble, and Hermione felt a quake move up her body, ending in a light laugh.

"I know." She agreed.

"Awful timing, yeah." He agreed. Hermione licked her lips. She turned, ever so slightly, so she was facing him. This wasn't something you merely discussed not face to face.

"No, I guess, I should say I knew…that you liked me."

It was Seamus' turn to look absolutely shocked, "What?"

"I'm pretty observant Seamus. You don't' think I didn't notice that you switched out the cards? Got beat up for me? I didn't understand it at first, but then I thought back, and well…you've always been there. I should have said something, but you never did, so I thought you didn't want to. I thought you had your reasons for silence." Hermione shrugged, reaching up and running her hand down his cheekbones, already dotted with facial hair.

The electronic feeling now that she was facing him was terrifying. It was amplified so much more; pushing her toward him with the force she'd been holding back the past hour or so.

Seamus' face was bright red. "Now I feel like an idiot." He chuckled. She pulled herself up to his level, leaning down and kissing him.

"Don't." She said, biting her lip nervously, smiling. He gave a little exhale of breath, a half-laugh, a half-unbelieving scoff.

The second kiss was not tame at all, but like the fire that burned through her veins. And in those moments, she thought of Hannah. She thought of how she'd been good her whole life, and she'd been brave enough to say that maybe it wasn't awful to want to experience things before you died. That it wasn't wrong, that they deserved to life as much as they could. That Hannah had been brave enough, and oh, Hermione wanted this. She wanted it bad.

So she let her resistance to the feelings go.

GREEN GAMES

Colin didn't leave; not like Draco minded. All his other patients had been so ready to leave or scared of him as it were that the idea of one sticking around never occurred to him. It was much easier that Colin was a normal guy; he and Draco would disagree, maybe roll their eyes, and get over it. Maybe punch each other, but since Draco was 'The Doctor' it was easy enough to fix.

Besides, Colin was a sort of personality type Draco found it easy to get along with. He wasn't a Slytherin, so there was nothing hidden under the surface about him, everything was genuine and Draco quickly realized when the blond said something, he usually was being truthful. They were also not in competition, the 'I'm better than you' dance that Slytherins often did with each other. He also wasn't trying to always outsmart Draco with something Draco obviously knew more about- like medicine. He'd talked to a Ravenclaw back at Hogwarts on occasion that turned their noses and acted as if they had a monopoly on learning, by Merlin!

Colin also wasn't dumb; not a duffer to say. He wasn't the brightest, but he did hold the slightest capacity for deeper-thinking when the time asked for it. He wasn't happy all the time either; he had the ability to be solemn about their situation because it wasn't a laughing matter, and there wasn't a better day coming for most. Colin could understand this.

So, in fact, Colin being a Gryffindor was in fact the best choice for a companion Draco could have been forced to spend time with. To be honest, his friendliness with different Gryffindors was becoming increasingly worrying to him. He was friends with Colin, in a weird sense. He was actively searching for Hermione and if he might say, he'd felt something when he talked to her those mornings. He didn't even hate Ron that much, felt sorry for him mostly. And he and Seamus? Well, he and Seamus had an 'agreement'.

He counted on his fingers. Four Gryffindors. Four over-zealous, right-vs-wrong advocates, and notorious bad-choice makers that he would willingly admit to have spent time with and enjoyed. Oh, geeze, if Pansy wasn't going to kill him for anything else, she might choose to kill him because of this.

If she could, of course. Draco was fairly confident in his own ability of survival.

"Draco!" Colin called through the rain, which as quickly as it had begun had turned into one of the coldest and hardest downpours Draco had seen in his life, "Cave up ahead. I don't think we're going to make it back to your place; it's a freaking typhoon or something."

"Don't be ridiculous." Draco snapped, "It's not a typhoon, just a storm." He said, and was glad it was dark for he flinched at the booming thunder. True, it was a really unusually fierce storm but typhoon was a bit of an exaggeration.

The cave was dry for the most part; shallow, but at least big enough for them to wait out the storm. Colin's stomached roared loudly, and Draco sighed. They'd been idiots; unprepared for this. Gone to search for plants (And Hermione, in his case) and thought it wouldn't be necessary for provisions, seeing they were wandering not far from camp. But this rain was a deterrent, and Draco knew that they could be stranded for hours. He wasn't worried about his alcove, it was well protected with spells, but he was worried about their stomachs.

"I'm going to find some food." He said, standing, brushing off his pants. Colin looked at him as if he'd sprouted another head.

"In this? What are you going to find us?" He balked.

"Something." Draco muttered, stalking out into the cold. He went to the stream where there were fish, and since he was already sopping wet, he had no qualms sinking into the river to catch some. Besides, it was still painfully humid and warm out, so much so that the juxtaposition between rain and heat was overwhelming. These game-makers really liked fucking with them, didn't they?

He managed to catch a couple of large fish so they could each have one. Being growing boys, having two each would have been ideal, but the time and the rain didn't help- he gave up when the rain pitter-pattered so harshly he could hardly see a foot in front of him, much less a river where the fish were scarce and driven away by the thunder and lightning.

Back in the cave, he was extremely surprised to find a fire next to Colin, who warmed his hands by the heat.

"You…built that?" Draco asked, frowning in surprise. Colin rolled his eyes.

"I'm not completely useless, you know. I think I'd be dead by now if I were." He said, rolling back on his heels, a bit offended.

"No, I mean, I know you're not. No one rolls with Draco Malfoy without pulling some weight." He hastily covered, but Colin looked unconvinced. Colin also calmly took the fish and proved to Draco he knew how to gut them and filet them, proving to be full of surprises. He must have seen Draco's gaze watching his movements because he laughed a bit.

"You know, for as much as us muggle-borns are supposedly unwanted, in a game that takes away magic, for once we have the upper-hand. If we're not running from a dragon or something, in basic survival, we often know the most about it. Because it makes sense. Why would you, a pureblood that's always had magic around you-learn something as mundane as making a fire? Or building a lean-to? Or tying knots? Not when you could just magically do it." Colin said as he methodically prepared their meal.

"I had already thought of that." Draco nodded in agreement, "The first couple years this happened, the muggle-borns did produce a sense of helpfulness, like they could survive. Didn't always matter. Now, we've all smartened. I do know how to tie knots, Colin." He said, half-teasing. Colin shrugged. When the fish were frying over the fire, Colin snapped his fingers.

"Forgot, here." He said, pulling a crumpled envelope from his pocket, "Came for you when you were hunting." HE said. Draco took it; it as a message from the outside world. He turned and realized the seal had been broken. He shot Colin a dark look.

"You opened it?" He demanded icily.

"You said it yourself; never trust a Slytherin. It might have been a strategy to kill me, you know?" Colin shrugged unapologetically.

"If I had wanted to kill you, I would have." Draco said dryly, but at the same time could not be all too annoyed- he would have done the same.

The letter was from Chris; an old friend of Draco's from before Voldemort's take-over. He was an unusual Slytherin, one very much against the common thoughts of the house. He was currently helping Draco with…well, with finding Hermione. Informing him of about where she was, when he could. And Colin had read this.

"It okay, mate." Colin said when Draco glanced from over the paper, "Every Gryffindor man has had their turn being infatuated with her, ya know?" He said.

Draco felt his face instantly flush, his body go ridged. "I'm not bloody in love with her." He sputtered. Colin scratched his head, looking genuinely confused.

"You sure?" He asked, "Because stalking her movements to find her…that forcefully? I mean, I don't know how Slytherins show affection to each other-,"

"No, I just think she'd be a good allies. Don't you?" He diverted the topic away. Colin nodded.

"Yeah, duh, but how do you know she'd even agree to go with you? I mean, didn't you two hate each other in Hogwarts?"

"Yeah," Draco agreed sourly, "We did."

He'd already had that thought too; that Hermione would spit in his face, or kill him when he came across her. And he couldn't do a thing about it, because Merlin knew that was the one girl he'd never forgive himself if he hurt, in any way. And she had made it clear on that last day if they met in the arena they'd be Malfoy and Granger- like in school- not the familiar Draco and Hermione they'd become.

But things were different now, weren't they? They didn't have to fight against each other, not because of the title, although Hermione may want to relive third-year and punch him again, but-

Draco crumpled the paper into a ball and shoved in into his pocket. He didn't want to burn it, because seeing her name, hearing that she'd killed someone else- Blaise, he was feeling quite mixed.

On one hand, he didn't understand it, and he didn't care. She was probably hurting, beside herself, and likely in a bad place. But his best friend since they were in nappies was dead…killed by Hermione. That wasn't' something so easily fixed and reckoned with.

He swallowed. Colin seemed to notice.

"You and Blaise were friends." He said, drawing figures in the dirt with a stick.

"Yeah." Draco's voice was raw, tough, "We never made up. I'm always going to regret it, you know." He said, sliding against the wall.

"Hermione killed him. Doesn't that make you angry? You still want to allies with her." The last sentence was an observation. Draco waved a hand.

"It's more complicated than that." He said with a wince.

"I still think you're in love." Colin shrugged, "That doesn't' have to be anything less than simple."

"Hermione needs to survive. I can help her achieve that. She deserves to, not because of feelings or whatever, but because of her strength, her ability to lead others. It's bigger than you would understand, Colin." Draco took his fish of the stick.

"You saw she's with Seamus though now, yeah. If they survive- didn't hear no cannons, you know. He's in love with her obviously too, though he's a bit more vocal about it."

Draco bit his lip; he shouldn't have been surprised. But it still annoyed him; after what was said. Hermione hadn't known, but Seamus had seen him on the balcony one day, when she wasn't there. They'd had a long talk about Hermione, they'd promised each other that if they could agree on one thing in life, it would be to protect her…get her though these games, both claiming different and obscure (and also fake) reasons. It was clear now; Seamus' was love, in a way that made Draco want to barf.

His was noble, his was something else, and so that was different of course. And he was sure wherever they were, Seamus was protecting Hermione like he said, being a gentleman, as he should be.

Still, Draco wished he were there instead of him, that it was he that Hermione would be citing later for her saving…

"Love." Colin sang through his full mouth of food, "You're in denial, Draco. Merlin, thought I'd never see this day-,"

Draco threw a pebble at him.

"Bloody Gryffindors."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, I'm pretty sure I created more questions than answered them XD And if anyone thinks Hermione's actions in the caves are a little OOC, there is an explanation in the next chapter for why she was acting that way, although by now, some of you might have already guessed!
> 
> Please remember to review! I swear, every little review makes an authors day and counts a ton!
> 
> Review to find out next time...is Luna really pregnant? Will Draco ever admit his feelings? Does Hermione feel the same way for either Seamus or Draco? All will be answered...
> 
> DEATH LIST: (Or, who's still alive)
> 
> SLYTHERIN: Draco, Pike, Pansy, Tracey
> 
> GRYFFINDOR: Hermione, Ron, Seamus, Colin
> 
> RAVENCLAW: Michael, Caligula, Luna, Elizabeth, Mandy
> 
> No Hufflepuffs left. Sadness :'(


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So two months to have you guys wait for this is unacceptable and I totally understand if you all hate me now *waits for rotten fruit to be thrown* No? Yes? I really am sorry! The first month I was finishing an online course for college (school during the summer whoo hoo) that was very intensive, and between that and family activities time got away from me. In the second month, I decided to finish the last 100 pages of a fanfiction in order to be able to submit it for a contest deadline that's today. I did finish, so yay! Now I have time to work on this...and some other fanfictions I pushed aside to finish the other one XD
> 
> But this one is 24 pages at my last count? Maybe more after revising? What I'm trying to say is that there's a lot here :) More deaths? I suppose you'll have to wait and see.

Hermione woke at an unknown hour. The cave was just as dimly lit as the day or night previous, so it was mostly impossible for Hermione to be sure how long she'd been asleep. A couple of preliminary thoughts came at her all at once, such as how sore she was all over, like she'd been run over by a train. Next, and more uncomfortably, was that she realized as she brushed up the warm lining of the blanket, she was missing more than just a couple articles of clothing. Lastly, as she leaned back into a solid object, was when the memories flooded back in.

Hermione sucked in sharply, "Oh my Merlin…" She shook her head, so upset with herself about nearly everything that had happened last night. Looking back at Seamus, though, glad to see he wasn't dead, she gave a slight quirk of a smile.

Not everything was a mistake. At least, not in the moment. There was still time for that to change.

Seamus woke by her miniscule movements, blinking awake.

"Granger…?" He asked hazily, "Merlin, don't take me now, I must be dreaming." He chuckled, and attempted to sit. But in such a small space, and with the air chilled when he tried to, he settled back down.

"No dream," Hermione swallowed thickly, "Reality."

She frowned, though, and forced herself from the warmth of the cocoon, putting her bra back on as she wiggled her way out. She was incredibly thankful that Hannah had taught her that spell about the cameras what seemed eons ago, for she gathered her strength to perform it now. When it came back negative- as in this was undocumented territory, seemingly, for the games, she sighed in relief.

"There are no cameras down here, Seamus." She said out loud, and her relaxation must have been evident in her voice, for Seamus nodded thoughtfully.

"Suppose you wouldn't have wanted that on T.V. last night…" He scratched his head uneasily, "You know, I get it…we almost died and-,"

"No," Hermione stopped him quickly, "I…I didn't regret it, you know. Don't think of it like that." She said honestly. Did she have feelings for him? Perhaps slight ones, more of an undercover crush more than anything, and even more so, she was at least proud of herself that she let her control side go, and just felt. It was quite the experience; one that she had to admit in the aftermath wasn't a totally bad one.

"Oh," Seamus' face split into a grin, "I don't regret it either."

Hermione crawled over to their pile of hastily taken off clothes, and they were still slightly damp to the touch. She worked carefully on them with a drying spell, and wondered why she hadn't thought of it last night. Then again, neither of them was thinking perfectly, nor had the time to do this, since it took effort on her part to do such a simple household spell.

"It was very unlike me, you should know, though." Hermione continued as she warmed and dried their things.

"I could have guessed. Not that you seemed bad, but just…" He shrugged, "I don't expect much else." He added hastily, and Hermione chuckled.

"It was a really mixture of a lot of things." She said out loud, although now she was more trying to figure out what led to the rush of emotions and chemicals leading to letting her body loose control (as freeing of an experience as it was), "I nearly died with you. That's not something you can walk away from; much less not feel something for the other person. Besides that…I mean, I…I killed Blaise, Seamus." She said candidly, tiredly, "I would have killed Michael too, had he not stopped me. I can't explain it…I was so angry. Unreasonably. I just…was."

She expected disgust or judgment from Seamus, but he whistled.

"Hell." Was about all he said, but it was almost a sympathetic utterance.

"Yeah, hell." Hermione agreed, flapping out the first item dry, Seamus' clothes, and throwing it his way.

"I'm sure it was founded." He tried to defend her weakly.

"I don't know. Is any death founded? He did kill Ernie and Hannah and maybe really hurt Elizabeth, and he might have hurt me too-I have a ton of scars on my back, and I don't really remember anything after Ernie died." She admitted.

Seamus let out a sigh, biting his lip uncertainly, "I don't know what to tell yeh, Hermione. I don't see ya differently, if that's what ye was worried 'bout. I think…" He began to say, but his eyes narrowed in on something on his hand. He held it up to his face, squinting, and then licked it.

Hermione put her own now dry clothes. When she stood, there was a shooting pain up her ankle, but she ignored it. She figured it was sore limbs, and held her face as she came to squat by Seamus, but ended sitting on her bottom to relieve the pressure. It was troubling.

Her attention was pulled back to Seamus staring at his blue-smudged hand curiously.

"Oh, the blueberries didn't wash off." She said, and began to stand again to test her ankle, but Seamus unexpectedly laughed.

"You're kiddin', right? Man, the only time cameras are not around. This is gunna go down in history!" He snorted in between giggles.

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"The day that I- Seamus Finnegan- know something that Hermione Granger does not know." He stated proudly, and Hermione just gave him a blank stare.

"I'm confused."

"They weren't blueberries, 'Mione." He said, and now his expression sobered from his laughter, "They were Erosa berries." He said.

Hermione frowned, going through all her brain paths in her Mind Palace to try to recover any information these, but after a long moment, came up blank.

"I'm not familiar." She said, then her eyes widened, "But Erosa? Erotic? Were they-," She began to ask, her heart thudding.

"Aphrodisiacs? Not really, it's more complicated. And don't feel bad yeh don't know it," Seamus said, patting her head, "It's grown only in Scotland, and it's not very useful to most, ken."

"Since I don't know what it is, I actually don't know." Hermione reminded him, almost teasingly. She reached for their pack, looking for food that wasn't too terribly wet or inedible by this point, since her stomach was growling and she was sure Seamus was hungry too. She emptied it out on her lap to dig through and see what was still usable, but her eyes never left Seamus' elated and excited face as he brought up his hands as he started to explain things, waving them around in vague shapes.

"Okay, so imagine a berry that doesn't make attraction, like most aphrodisiacs and love potions try to do, but this berry just exists with pre-existing emotions. It plays off what's already there, so it's popular among already married couples, but for more modern aspects, is not the greatest. It was engineered couple years back, a more natural love potion berry, but what the maker failed to realize in creating it was that if you want natural, hate is not the opposite of love but often the thin line next to it. And if you have love and hate, you got all the emotions in between." He said, cupping his hand into a circle.

Hermione found a granola bar that looked somewhat edible, and tore it in half, plopping one half between his cupped hands.

"I still don't see how or why this…it's…" She didn't know why she couldn't make the connections that she was sure would be obvious in a moment.

"Okay, some examples. If you eat it, and then hang out with a best friend, you feelings toward them are amplified to the extreme. You might not be the most outgoing person, let's say, but I mean if someone were to say something mean to them, you might go punch the person in the face. If someone was trying to shoot a killing spell at them, you might jump in front of it. Why it was ideal to grow here is that apart from allies, which you might be tempted to do the extreme in this situation anyway, most people you hate by nature of the game."

"A killing berry, to most." Hermione realized with sudden clarity, "To get the death toll running."

"Exactly. Which would be a perfect explanation for why you were so angry at Blaise, and why you killed him. You might feel hatred toward him to a minimal extent at most times, and one could argue you weren't totally in control of your actions, but they were your underground extreme thoughts. There are some limits to what this berry may or may not push a person to do."

Hermione nodded sagely. "What if you don't encounter anyone after you eat it?"

"Your body goes into hypersensitive mode, looking for people or things to release this extremities on, but if it comes up blank, you loose your energy and feel tired."

Justin and the berries next to him flashed through Hermione's mind. She felt awful for him for a moment, wondering if he'd found anyone, maybe his demise may have come later or not at all. Another thought crossed her mind and she looked toward Seamus.

"How long does the berries…erm…affect you?"

"Depends on how much you had, but I mean, it's meant to keep married couples going all night, ken. So, a while." He shrugged, and then realized what she was implying too and his whole face brightened, "You know what that means, Hermione?"

"What?" Hermione blushed, unable to even think it herself.

"If you just saw me as a bro, a fellow Gryffindor like you see a lot of others- like you see Ron or Dean- you'd save me and that would be it. But you, someone deep inside of that heart of yours, you do 'like-like' me." His face was so smug, Hermione wanted to almost punch it. Or kiss it. Arg- was that berry talking, or herself? She wasn't totally sure.

"You're a regular detective." Hermione said deadpanned, in an attempt to hide her rising emotions. Hearing it made it real now, made her have to accept and acknowledge what he said as truth, for she knew that it was.

"Might ease your mind, Hermione." Seamus said, almost sweetly, "To know where those emotions came from, and why it was so…out of character." He added.

"It's still not what happened with you that I'm having trouble with." Hermione said softly, "I could have seen that happening, liked it, wanted it in normal situations too, you know. That's not what I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around. It's that somewhere in the back of my mind, I had the ability and even the want to kill someone here. I didn't want to go that far. I wasn't going to let the games change me." She said, clenching her fists.

"I'm shit at motivational stuff, Hermione." Seamus shifted uncomfortably, "I know it's hard. But one person-,"

"Two." Hermione's voice was steely, "Two people. Lavender." She said, and then told him, in great detail about the events leading to Hermione ending her life as well. When she was done, Seamus motioned for her to come back under the blankets. She felt fragile and was shivering, so she obliged. They scooted so that they could sit against the wall, safe under the large warmth.

"Lav and I were best friends for a long time. We dated, even, fourth year. So trust me when I tell you that I know her likely better than any one, lass. She would have wanted that. I'm not just sayin' it for your benefit, no you deserve better than lies. I'm sayin' it because it's true. Lavender…" Seamus struggled for the right words, laughing a bit, wiping a tear away- and Hermione realized he likely had no idea who had died and such, unless he'd been closer to her the whole time than she thought since Hermione seemed to run into death at every turn, "She was strong, in her own way. She liked projecting herself to be seen in a particular fashion. She did that in her death. Allowing someone else, someone who the viewers would know could care for her even on a small level, to end her life? They'll trust you. If you really think there was nothing to be done, there was nothing. End of story." He said firmly.

"I'll never not feel guilty, right choice or not."

"That's something you gotta figure out how to live with, if you do." He said, "You have a damn good chance of winnin'." He added, chuckling, "Maybe the best."

"Pany's pretty good where she is; minions and supplies all set up. Pike, he's for sure someone to watch as well. I underestimated him greatly." She knit her brows, "I just…I don't know."

She felt tears well up, and felt angry too that she was letting her emotions run so rampant lately. Sourly, she wiped the back of her hand against the tears, but Seamus saw it.

"Hermione…what's wrong?"

"I just…sometimes I feel like it's never going to be enough. Fight, fight, and fight all day long. Almost die, find some food, and run away. It's so exhausting and then we have to get up and do it all over again. Right now especially, I just feel as though it's never going to end. I'm going to slip up, I'm going to die."

"Hermione…" Seamus' voice was so soft it was hard to pick up on, but it was almost upset, "You don't realize how many people want you to win, do you?"

"Why does that matter? They can't pluck me from this arena by sheer power of will." Hermione asked, sniffling.

"No, you, of all people have the odds stacked toward you." He said, "You have me, and I'm going to do everything I can to help you win even if it means my death. You have others in the area looking for you, and you don't even realize it. You have the backing of any good sort of soul on the outside, and the Order!"

"You know about the," Hermione began to whisper, but then remembered there were no cameras down here, "The order?"

"Yeah. That fashion bird told me about it all when she realized how I felt about you. Knew I'd be a safe person to watch you in here. Give me hope."

"Are they…keeping you safe too?"

Seamus shook his head, seeming far too flippant about life and death matters, and chuckled, "I'm not revolutionary material."

"And I am?" Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"That's the funny thing. You don't even realize it."

"My rebellion died with Harry." She said softly, picking at her fingernails.

"That's a load of shit if I ever heard it. Anyone who didn't go into this game just accepting they were going to die one way or another or that hey, they might kill someone is a revolutionary." He assured. His eyes flickered around, and his gaze unfocused from her.

"What is it?" She wondered if he'd seen something. Leave it to the game makers to release a thousand deadly spiders down here or something. She tensed, preparing to jump up and fight if need be.

"So…if there's no cameras…do them up there think we're dead?" He asked, his voice cracking a bit at the end. She realized his concern, out of sight out of game? She couldn't be positive.

"Well, these trackers are still in our arms. If one of us had gotten it cut open or something, it might be different, but as of now, I think we're still considered alive." She felt the spot under her arm where the bump was raised. She felt her fingers tracing that spot often, actually. It was so odd, and it always surprised her to feel the bump of the metal interrupting her usually smooth arm.

"Good." Seamus relaxed downward, sinking backwards. Hermione did also. "So…if we're practically invisible right now, I say we don't go up. Apart from the obvious lack of ways out, it's sort of nice to be able to take a break." He said.

"I don't want to go back up there either." Hermione agreed, scrunching her nose, "I think it's smart to stay down here awhile."

Seamus got up to stretch, and offered her a hand. She momentarily forgot about her ankle, but when she stood, she almost shot back down as her ankle exploded. Seamus noticed this time, stooping down.

"Shite." He whistled, "When did this happen?"

"When did what happen?" Hermione asked, examining her own foot for the first time properly. Seamus lit up his hand, and moved the light near her foot, "Oh."

Her whole ankle was swollen three times it's usual size, and there was painful bruising flowering along her leg. Seamus hardly poked it, and she hissed at the tenderness of the contact. "Last night probably. I wouldn't be surprised if I knocked it against a rock." She growled through the ebbing pain.

"It's broken." He said, looking up at her with concern.

"Naw, it's likely just a sprain." Hermione dismissed his assumption with a nervous laugh.

"Do ya really think a kid like me has never broken a foot or ankle before? I've done both, lemme tell ya…I know it when I see it." He said solemnly, and Hermione pursed her lips, "Just another reason to stay down here."

"I don't know the first thing about healing bones." Hermione admitted, rotating the foot slightly to more pain. Seamus grabbed her hand, pulling her back down.

"I think standing on it won't help." He said, "I'll do what I can. See what I remember from when I was a wee lad." He said, but Hermione was already beginning to sweat.

"Has your hand healed?" She asked quietly, and Seamus looked at his bandaged hand, although the gritty bandages might not be doing much for him now. He pressed his lips together.

"No." He said, and Hermione nodded, as that answered the question in her mind she was too afraid to ask herself…how was this going to change things? The answer…more than she would have liked. One could survive without a hand. But without a foot? Her prospects were rather grim.

GREEN GAMES

Fred opened the door to the Burrow softly, carefully. Ginny stood up immediately as he entered, still frowning.

"The Grangers awake yet?" He questioned, and Ginny shook her head.

"Still asleep." She said, and Fred sighed in relief, "Did you manage to get that favor?"

"Yeah." Fred nodded, "I guess being a victor does have it's perks. According to a friend in the game room, Hermione and Seamus are still alive. Their trackers are still sending information, but they're just in a place without access to cameras. Their vitals showed a scare last night- they think almost drowning- but as of about an hour ago, when they seeming woke up, signals showed they were much better in health and chemical levels. Hermione was expressing some pain though, but it's unsure from where. It didn't seem life threatening though."

"Thank Merlin! Not about the pain." Neville breathed loudly, "I thought they were done for when the ground fell out beneath them!"

"We might as well tell her parents now," Mrs. Weasley stood, "At least we know she's safe. If she's smart, she'll stay underground away from trouble."

"Well, it is Hermione we're talking about." Ginny tried to lighten the situation, "I'm pretty sure all that danger wasn't just attracted to Harry."

"My friend said he'd update me if there was any sudden drop in vitals or anything." Fred flopped onto the couch, sighing longingly. His friend had also confided in him that looking at some levels being monitored he was pretty sure that she and Seamus-erm- that they…

Fred winced; he wasn't about to tell his sister or Neville or anyone else that. He wasn't even sure he had wanted to hear it. Well, really, Seamus was a pretty nice guy and he had seen the puppy-dog affection toward Hermione from him in Hogwarts, but did he ever think he'd actually get the girl? That was unlikely, it was Hermione they were talking about. Then again, put in situations of almost death, people did a lot of things they may not normally be prone to do.

"Good." Ginny took her eyes away from the screen, "Ron doesn't get a lot of screen time." She pouted.

"Ron's not the most interesting person. Not when you have literal sociopaths like those two." Neville threw his hands in frustration toward the screen where it was currently following Pike and Pansy around.

"I hope they die soon." Ginny grumbled, "Sickos!" She hissed toward them, as if they could hear. Fred shifted uneasily. Yeah, they were the most bloodthirsty on the show and easily the most dangerous and probably shouldn't still be around, but after going through what he went through? It was hard to wish death upon anyone, not when it often brushed him so closely, not when he'd had to kill.

Once you killed another person, you saw death in a different light, or at least one hoped. Pansy maybe saw opportunity or strength or something else perverted, but the common person saw the sanctity of any life. Fred did.

"So, do you really think Malfoy likes Hermione?" Ginny asked, nudging Fred's side with her foot, "Or he was just saying that for the cameras and fame or whatever?"

"I hate to admit it, but likely it was truth. I mean, after a week? You forget there's cameras hidden everywhere. You forget literally everything you say will be broadcasted all over Europe. Malfoy seems pretty genuine in a lot of other things too, I do think it's not as far-fetched as you'd like to think."

"Ew!" Ginny shuddered, and Neville gave a low snort, "Urg, that's gross! I mean, it's Malfoy!"

"Whose done nothing but heal people," Fred wasn't sure why he was defending him, after he realized what he'd said, but also didn't regret saying it, especially when that was really all he'd done. If he'd done something, anything else, they would have undoubtedly seen it on the show.

"People can't just turn on a dime." Ginny waved her hands around, "What's the muggle saying? A tiger can't change its stripes?"

"Leopard and spots, but you almost got it." Dean yawned from the doorway, coming to sit with them, "I heard that Hermione and Seamus are alive." It didn't look like he got a moment of sleep, from the deep bags underneath his eyes. He must have been up all night with worry about his best friend, and Fred felt for him. Ginny noticed it too.

"Dean! Go back to bed; you're exhausted. Now that they're okay, you can sleep well."

"I actually came to see if you have a sleeping potion or something." He said, nodding, "I just needed to know Seamus was okay."

"We would have let you know right away if anything happened to him." Neville assured, standing up, "Ginny?"

"I'll find you it. Want some warm milk with that?" She asked, half-teasing as she got up too, leading the two boys into the kitchen.

Fred waited until Charlie wandered into the living room, plopping down. Fred reached for his jacket.

"I'm heading back in." He informed his brother, "My day to be there and all." He said, which wasn't true at all, but he preferred to be in a more scientific area where he could watch Hermione's vitals himself, instead of wonder what was going on with her when the TV was focused on other people. He could also see Ron too, for as Ginny so aptly pointed out, he had little screen time.

But his brother was a survivor. He'd survived this long without getting picked, and that was almost a miracle. They'd all sort of expected it this year, and there hadn't been much hope he'd be left unreaped. His brother wasn't the best survivalist either, and now that he was concerned about Luna, that's all he focused on.

Fred sill held the test results in his pocket, her health sheet. Before he'd gone in, Ron had almost wanted to know if Luna truly was pregnant, but chose that perhaps it would be better if he didn't.

"If it's true and she dies, then what? I've lost two." Ron said, brushing it back into his brother's hands when he presented it. Fred tried to convince him that he'd hate himself forever if he never knew, but Ron just laughed.

"I think we both know I'm not going to make it out. I think I won't have to wonder about it long." He whispered painfully, and Fred didn't have the heart to throw it out.

Maybe one day, after all of it, he'd tell Ron…whether it be by his graveside or in person when he won. That dream was just too sweet to imagine happening though.

He pushed open the doors of the Game Center, the hub of everything from mentor interviews, live broadcasts from Rita Skeeter, where to place bets, and where the mentors and teachers got a much-needed oasis from outside. All the victors-turned-mentors recalled what it was like being in there. It was hard to watch it with people who didn't understand. He'd even seen Marcus Flint get upset once about it with silly girls that thought they understood him perfectly.

No one could kill and win this thing without scarring their souls, and he liked to believe everyone had one to begin with. Even Flint.

He passed the list of most favorable bets of the tributes on a screen, ever flickering by their individual movements in the game. Mostly, it stayed consistently in the same groups, but Hermione's had recently taken a nosedive. No one wanted to bet on someone who might be dead, of course, even though Rita had not confirmed it on the air. He passed where people lined up to send things to tributes, where sponsors went to sponsor a tribute. The lines waned and grew like waves. Mostly, when there was little action there was little sponsors. When there was action, the place was packed and lines went around the circle of the room.

He entered a non-descript door, entering an area of chairs and multiple screens with multiple tributes shuffling around.

"Fred!" McGonagall got up, bunching her robes as he entered.

"Hermione's okay." He said, and the entire room sighed in unison, "Seamus too. Alive, underground, but alive."

"Thank Merlin!" Viktor breathed from the corner, "I would hate to see her go down like that."

Fred glanced around the room.

"Where's Cedric?" He questioned, sad to see his closest ally of the victors gone.

"He's at home." Oliver said from where he settled back onto a fainting couch, staring up at the screens, "He's not in a good place."

"I can hardly blame him." Fred sighed, "Poor Diggory." He frowned.

"Well, what you do if Ron-," Marcus scoffed, looking over but Fred cut him off before he finished.

"Just don't. No." Fred shook his head. He saw a flash of red hair, and turned, watching Ron with Luna. His heart clenched, and his fingers brushed the paper. Little Elizabeth was with them; thank god. He knew Hermione worried about her. He wished he could tell her she was fine, but he didn't know if anyone could reach her where she was currently.

"Oh, Ron." He sighed, seeing his own movements as Ron tried to get a fire going. Seeing his brother, someone who sometimes exhibited his own movements, was like seeing himself up there. Or watching George.

His chest constricted, and he stood up abruptly, grabbing a water bottle and chugging it to try to relieve the pain, but it didn't help.

"Hermione killing Blaise; what do you take on that, Fred?" Oliver called across to him, and Fred wiped the droplets of water from his chin. That was something he also didn't like to think about.

"It wasn't really her, it was those berries." Lupin answered before he could, and he was grateful. He was really just speechless about the whole thing, but didn't blame her. He'd done worse.

"Every year, I don't think the game makers can get more sadistic." Moody grunted from the far side, "I forgot who we're dealing with. Bloody Slytherins and Death Eaters."

"I'm surprised you're not in there, Flint." Oliver frowned at him distastefully, and Flint shifted uneasily.

"They offered me it." He said, and everyone knew whom the 'they' was, "But I was in there-the games, I mean. I hardly survived. Not my thing." He finished with a wave of nonchalant confidence, but Fred spied the anger in his eyes. Even he was beyond wanting to inflict this sort of pain on others.

Who knew Flint had a conscious? Surly not Fred. He gave a humph of surprise under his breath, and turned to the food selection.

"Mandy is surviving. Perhaps we underestimated her." Lupin's attention was turned to the screens. There was a screen for every tribute or cluster of tributes, streaming to them in live time, uncut. The people outside would see only what Voldemort wanted them to see, but a perk of being a victor was you got experience everything with them as it happened, all the boring bits and all the things Voldemort didn't want getting out.

It was the best freedom Fred could hope for in this sort of life.

It also came with pain.

Seeing people in only moments of great thoughts or action seemed to make people forget they were merely students. But here, watching Michael do something as normal as wash off in a stream, Tracy talk in her sleep, or Ron failing to make a fire reminded everyone in here that they were real. Even he felt himself falling under the spell of carefully constructed views on the T.V. when he was at home with his family around the tributes he didn't know personally.

"Holy shit." Oliver jumped form the chair, leaping across the room and grabbing Fred's arm hard, "Dude…look."

Everyone in the room had gone quiet. Fred looked to where he was pointing, and his whole body froze.

"Ron! "

GREEN GAMES

The air was crisp. It reminded Pansy of pumpkins in the Great Hall and when she knew she was in love with Draco Malfoy the first time.

Not that she hadn't been drawn to his presence since they were children, their sorts of people ran in the same groups as one another, of course. But he'd always been a little…aloof, guarded. She'd found Blaise to be a much more entertaining playmate, because his emotions were so quickly changed. Around the age she had play dates with Blaise and Draco was also the time she learned she was quite good at manipulating emotions.

She remembered her mother patting her head with a wicked grin, "See, Cephus? Destined for Slytherin."

There had been so much pride in her parent's voice that it just made Pansy want to please them more.

If she were examining herself, that would be the start of her descent into this madness. Into what she was today. She had been molded by her parents her whole life to be the perfect little Slytherin daughter. Someone that in the future, when he came back, Voldemort would be proud of.

They might have had higher aspirations for their daughter than to be in a killing game, but when they learned it was the best way for a half-blood to scale the ladder of success, they got her a personal trainer who made her train until her feet bled and her palms bruised.

Some would call it obsession; Pansy just saw it as her parents marking the greatest way for the best life. It's what all parents wanted for their children…didn't they?

Just like how she knew Draco was the best for her. Even if he never were chosen to be in these games, he would no doubt succeed in life, as Malfoys did naturally through history. But having the honor to participate in such a triumph of pure raw skill? She knew with a certainty Draco would win.

Perhaps at the finish line, he'd realize they were meant for each other. A female had yet to win the games. When she won, he'd see her for what she truly was.

A queen.

"Over here. There's blood all over." Pike called her, and Pansy at first thought it was another pathetic attempt for him to rest again. Sure, he'd nearly been killed by Draco-clearly under the influence of something- she brushed it from her mind. He would explain himself when this was all over. There had to be a Slytherin reason for it.

She'd patched him up the best someone who was a master in destroying instead of mending could. Even taking the day agonizingly slow yesterday still left him weak, something Pansy despised. They hadn't caught up with that blasted Gryffindor, and at the snail's pace they went, they were likely miles behind him. She considered merely leaving him to fend for himself, but he was so loyal that she felt as though she needed his 'companionship', for lack of a better word.

He was indeed sitting down, but he wasn't lying either.

She brushed away a pile of crunch leaves with her foot, seeing two blood spots that hadn't washed out of the ground. Who they belonged to was the real question. The ground was also roughed up; whoever had been around had fought.

There was a ruffle in the bushes, and a figure stumbled into view.

"Look whose back!" Pike jumped to his feet, pressing his knife against Corner's neck, "Just rolling in as if you have the right."

"Pike!" Pansy snapped, he lessened the pressure, although a bead of blood did slide down Corner's neck from where the knife had been held, "I doubt he's here to hurt us. Not when he looks he got on the wrong end of a fight." She said, scrutinizing his bruises trickling down his face, especially around the eyes and cheekbones, and his many scrapes.

"Pansy." Corner grumbled, nodding to her. He sounded a little less sure of himself than when she'd left him. He had been so promising, having the first kill and all, but now? Now he looked like a dog coming back to the owner he ran away from, tail between his legs.

"I hear you've made enemies for yourself, Corner." Pansy said. She may not get much correspondence from the outside, but Corner's news of his banishment from the Brotherhood had been too intriguing for her to not know. Killing a fellow Ravenclaw…even Slytherins usually had a bit more class and loyalty than that. Draco could have killed Pike, yet he didn't. Pansy did like to think it was their class joining that kept him from doing so.

"I did what I had to do in the games to survive." Corner did not sound meek anymore, but enraged. He stood by his choices. Good.

"That's what I wanted to hear." Pansy agreed. While having someone with little disregard to housemates could be dangerous, Pansy needed those on her side that weren't afraid to cross lines to win. Sometimes, Pansy wondered why he'd been sorted into Ravenclaw. He would have made a fabulous serpent.

"Who'd you lose a fight to, Corny?" Pike cackled, obviously feeling threatened. While Pansy rolled her eyes at his childish jabs, she too was curious.

"And do you know what happened here?" She was hazy on the alive vs. the dead count. While she knew how many cannons there had been, until she encountered someone, she pretty much assumed all dead. Which was impossible, because there were still people alive, but it was so hard to think who would win and who would lose. In weaker moments, she too contemplated that sometimes it didn't even come down to skill, but luck, to survive some of the curve balls here. That cannon could just as likely be her.

But no one would ever hear that.

Corner nodded, glancing to the tree Pike rested against. "I killed Justin there. Idiot was sleeping in broad daylight. Almost too easy." He chuckled.

"And here?" Pansy asked, absorbing the information. Easy kill or not, Corner still had more deaths under his belt than she did, and she felt annoyed by that. She wanted to wring someone's neck even more after hearing that.

When Corner's gaze looked down where the leaves half-covered the battleground, he became solemn.

"Blaise." He whispered, and Pansy felt a flash of sorrow. It was so quickly gone she wondered if it was a misfire of emotion, though, because why should she feel sad about one less person that could kill her?

"Hermione killed him."

Pansy almost asked him to repeat it; surly she'd heard it wrong. Pike looked at the ground, as though he knew more than he was letting on about something, but Pansy was too busy trying to make sure he mouth wasn't on the ground. Instead of showcasing her utter surprise, she gave a sharp nod.

"Hermione? Interesting change of events. I suppose we'll have to be concerned about her now, won't we?" she pouted.

"Concerned?" Corner chocked out, "I'd be bloody terrified of her. She came out blazin' as an animangus, and killed him like he was just a boar or something that was her next meal. She almost killed me too!"

"But…?" Pansy frowned, coaxing more out of him. Why was he saved, and Blaise wasn't?"

"I don't' know." Corner sighed, "I was so afraid. I thought it was the end. I didn't know it was she, not at first, but it was her eyes. Something in them…it was so familiar. I just said her name and she stopped. I…uh, I escaped."

"You ran away." Pike sniggered. Corner spun on him, poking him hard in the chest, making him wince.

"You stand in front of a panther with blood dripping from the fangs of your friend and you tell me you wouldn't be shitting yourself, mate?" Corner questioned, enunciating the 't' at the end like a bitter bite of something.

"Corner's right. You're all talk sometimes, I think." Pansy agreed, causing Corner to beam and Pike to glower. Merlin, men! They were as bad as their schoolboy counterparts sometimes, looking for female's approval and all; "I think we'll set up here tonight. Have a nice meal." She said.

Corner's smirk dropped off his face.

"Here, here?" He whispered, "Where Blaise and Justin died?"

Pansy guffawed, "Don't tell me you believe in ghosts of tributes past, Michael?" She asked, throwing her head back and laughing, "You're free to go on your own, you know. No one is keeping you here." She took her knife out and began witling sticks into sharpened points.

Corner looked conflicted, not that Pansy cared what he decided. He had proven himself to be worthy, and his kill tally alone was a reason enough to allow him to be kept around. Yet he was so Ravenclaw sometimes that it killed her. And not quite as compliant about her orders as Pike, which was always a pain. Yet he seemed as though he didn't want to spend another night alone, for he muttered angrily under his breath as he unpacked his own sleeping role. Or Justin's, maybe, Pansy couldn't care less.

Even though Pansy felt a darkened presence in the clearing, she ignored it. She felt it everywhere. This was an area of death, and if anyone thought they were going to see rainbows and bunnies and sunshine, they were just fooling themselves. Besides, she was fairly confident that ghosts couldn't kill people that were alive. And if they could? She was pretty sure Pike or Corner would go first.

Pansy would vanish any ghost that tried to touch her, and send them back down to hell. If ghosts of the old tributes did even exist however, which Pansy- like everything- had no proof of yet, so there was nothing to worry about.

GREEN GAMES

"Draco? What are you doing?"

Draco lifted his head from his knees to see Colin standing behind him, frowning.

"Did I tell you to wait back at the cave?" Draco growled, spinning around, "It's as though ever single Gryffindor that exists is born with the disposition to do the exact opposite of any order given!"

"That's one of the criteria to be a Gryffindor," Collin joked, but Draco just sighed.

"It's a funeral." He answered Colin's original question.

"For Blaise." Colin surmised softly, coming to sit beside Draco. The air in the sky had turned the leaves to a beautiful rusty red color, and draw twirled one by its stem by the pads of his fingers. He looked at the little pile of rocks he'd made, and the snakeskin he'd found placed precariously on top of it. Draco wordlessly nodded in affirmation.

"I didn't think it would hurt so much." Draco murmured, shaking his head, "I knew we were going separate paths from the very start. I turned to the side of healing, and Blaise just continued down practicing to kill. But growing up, he was the closest thing I had to a brother. Even if we grew apart." Draco wasn't sure if he was talking to Colin or to the wind, but either way, he felt the words spill out before he could stop it.

Luckily, Colin didn't speak, helping Draco to think he was just talking to himself. He didn't want to deal with stupid questions or things a kid like him just couldn't understand.

"Hermione killed him. Merlin, it was Hermione." He shook his head to the sky, biting his lip, "And I still can't hate her. I suppose that makes me an awful person. A bloody bird over a brother." He said sadly, continuing to build the rock gravestone. Each stone felt like a weight of his own grief, and he was piling it elsewhere because he couldn't survive past today if he kept it with him.

Had he been at home, and Blaise had died, he knew he would have mourned for ages, no matter how close they were or were not at the point. But here? Mourning meant mistakes, and mistakes meant death. He'd just have to properly mourn after it was all over, if he had the power to do that then. He knew he'd see so much more blood and horror before then, so allowing himself to grieve singularly now was perhaps a most reasonable choice.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back and letting his palms rest on the crown of his head.

"Blaise…he wasn't a really good person. Shit, he was an awful person in the end. Fame, fortune, legacies…it all got winded up here that it mattered more than actually living, being a good person. He was a bad student, hardly talked to me, particularly-,"

"Draco?" Colin questioned, interrupting him, "I've only been to a funeral once, when I was eight, and although I don't recall much…I don't know if this is how you do an eulogy. Isn't it the good in people you talk about?"

Draco gave him a scathing glare.

"Usually, but this is the Green Games funeral we're discussing." He scoffed, but his expression softened, "And if I said the good about him, I'd get too sad to move. It's simpler to remember him as the monster he turned out to be, at least for now."

Colin nodded softly.

"So what now?"

"We continue on." Draco shrugged, confused.

"No…I mean, Hermione." Colin didn't have to say much more, but Draco understood all the same. He paused, licking his lips uncertainly.

"If she were to show up today or like tomorrow, would you even…you know?" Colin threw his hands out in front of him, looking at the grave.

Draco was about to laugh and say of course he'd be glad to see her-belittle Colin for such a ridiculous question since it was only what he'd been looking for since the start of the games, but then a memory floated to the top of his subconscious against his will. He and Blaise were eight years old. It was his birthday, and he and Blaise had their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders the whole night, moving as one person. When Mrs. Zabini had questioned her son's behavior, Blaise's childlike answer had been innocent and simple.

"Draco is my best friend! Where he goes, I go."

"And where Blaise goes, I go too." Draco had chimed in.

Of course, they'd been speaking of magical and mythical lands in their head and defeating the dragon called Pansy that stole his candies and tripped him behind trees, but the memory was almost far away, like it had never been real, except Draco knew it was.

"I go too…" Draco whispered to the rocks, his shoulders wracked with silent sobs. Try as he might, the image of a little Blaise, still youthful and playful didn't leave him. They'd been best friends for fourteen years, closer than most siblings could ever hope to get. To deny the absolute crushing sorrow and anger that plagued him was as bad as killing Blaise himself.

Colin was still waiting for an answer.

"I don't know." Draco wanted to say something different, go with his original answer, but like a strange truth serum of pain, he said the truth.

Oh, how he hated the truth.

GREEN GAMES

Elizabeth wondered many things.

She wondered what her brother was doing at this very moment. She wondered if Hermione was still alive, although she hoped she was. She wondered what had happened on her favorite TV show, since she'd missed the most recent episode.

Yes, she wondered a lot of things.

Most obvious, though, she wondered if everyone else knew about Ron and Luna's secret. Or, supposed secret.

She was perceptive enough to pick up on the way Luna's fingers rested just above her belly button, like a homing signal. She was focused enough to see how Ron's eyes flickered down there every spare moment it go. She saw the brief exchanges the pair had, an unspoken conversation about one specific thing running between their eyes.

But Luna hadn't exhibited any sort of symptoms. She could chalk it up to the girl being small to begin with, dainty and delicate, and knowing that sometimes women like her hardly showed nine months in. But someone so food deprived, thirsty, and tired had to be worried about, well, the elephant in the room. Wasn't it unhealthy for the child? Would it suffer? But how far along could it be anyway? As far as Elizabeth knew, the pair hadn't been together very long, but the idea of impending death made people do…irrational things.

She wondered if they wondered about it too, because after thinking about it, she was almost sure it was maybe just the possibility. But something told her she might be wrong, and it was true. Then again, her sense of this and that was all off kilter anyway, so it was hard to decipher truth from not.

Her fingers fished for the letter Draco had given her. Luna knew, she knew, Draco knew. Only three people, besides Ernie himself and he was dead, realized the connection. Well, obviously her parents knew, and maybe Ernie's had figured it out a while ago, but no one had ever told her, which she found really unfair.

She could have gone her whole life wondering why he was so kind to her in these games, never getting an answer, and now she had it. Knowing he was her uncle only made things better. It put the perspective where his heart was.

He was such a good man, and thinking about his happy smile and goofy disposition gone from the world without any time to think was so awful.

It was still much to take in, though. She'd begun to suspect she'd been adopted, but it stung that her parents never trusted her with this knowledge. Not even when she might die…they had been content to let her think for the rest of her life she'd been theirs. Selfishness at it's finest, a word she never thought she'd associate with her parents.

Yet…there it was. The ugly, nasty, truth she never wanted to say out loud. And she kind of hated them for it. A little.

She just kept replaying everything from the day he died over and over again. She almost wished she were at home, so she could click re-wind and watch the little movements. She wished she could re-wind further, and see the way he'd been so gentle and fatherly with her the whole time. She wished she could watch it all again knowing what she knew now. She wished she could thank him.

"I need to go to the bathroom." Luna said, and Ron stood up, "Ron…I can go by myself."

"But…Elizabeth. Can you…?" He asked sheepishly, his face blushing.

"Of course." Elizabeth was glad for any distraction from her current thoughts, and sprung up, smiling brightly at him. He relaxed, and she almost asked. Then again, if she needed to know, they would tell her…right?

Unfortunately, the incident with Ernie and his true role in her life had left her rather skeptical of the idea of trust lately.

Luna led her down the ridge to where they'd dug a latrine in the ground with haste, knowing that the sooner they found Hermione or someone else they could trust, the better. Luna and Elizabeth were firm believers in numbers saved lives, whereas Ron was not. He was willing to vanish his beliefs away, to sooth Luna. It was the little motions of love that made her whole body ache, wishing she'd seen it with Ernie, although it was a different kind of love, mind you.

"How are you, Luna?" He question had meant to be casual, but there had to be something in her voice that gave it away, for Luna turned fully toward her, hands resting on her still flat stomach.

"I would be better if my chakras were aligned. Then I might have some clarity." Luna said bluntly, telling Elizabeth she didn't know either. Elizabeth couldn't imagine not knowing something so life changing, especially in here.

"Ah…" She answered weakly, "Will they ever…go back?"

"Oh, yes." Luna sounded more confident than Elizabeth could be about anything, as though Elizabeth had asked her the simplest yes or no question, "I feel that if we continue west, things will get better."

"West? Did…the ah, stars tell you that?" Elizabeth tried to understand Luna's way of collecting knowledge, but often it left her dumbfounded. She didn't mean to be cruel or sound mocking ever, for she was amazed that Luna could see things on a whole different plane of thought. She, as a knowledge lover, envied her.

"No." Luna chuckled, almost as though the idea was preposterous, "I saw shoe prints matching Hermione's size in the mud. Long past, but, it leads us in a way she went." She said. Elizabeth nodded, checking herself mentally. She also often forgot Luna was a Ravenclaw for a reason; she was neither stupid nor unable to figure simple things out.

Luna gave a small cough, and Elizabeth realized they'd reached the latrine.

"I'm…I'm gunna be by this tree." Elizabeth decided. She knew Luna had little care who saw her naked, but Elizabeth didn't feel the need to watch that today.

Elizabeth sat against the trunk, soaking in the fall breeze. She was a bit glad she got to be here, in the odd times like this, for she never thought she'd get to see fall weather again. As fleeting as it was, there was something so comforting in the simple smells she got to experience. Fall was her favorite season.

Luna was taking a long while, but Elizabeth chalked it up to the second sort of reason people went to the loo. It wasn't until she realized there were no birds singing that she worried. In fact…the forest was eerily quiet. Not even the leaves fluttered in the wind, for there was no wind to move them.

The whole first just stopped.

That scared her.

"Luna!"

Damn with the silence, Elizabeth could sense something coming, "Luna! We need to get back! The forest it's-,"

A roar that shook the branches silenced her call, and something shifted in the trees. She whimpered, pushing herself back against a tree, her fingers frantically searching for the knife Ron had given her stashed in her boot. She flung it in front of her, although she doubted something so small could protect her against what was coming.

The ground vibrated with the feeling of something running. When it crashed through the trees, Elizabeth's first reaction was wild confusion, until it barreled toward her.

That's when she screamed.

Trapped underneath the claws of the polar bear, she wiggled an arm free, slashing upwards. She screamed for Ron, crying and sobbing. Maybe this was how she was supposed to go? Maybe this was how it was meant to be? Maybe-?

The polar bear reared back and cried, and Elizabeth's adrenaline took over, rolling her out from under the beast.

"Luna, you got to go. Leave! Please." Elizabeth gasped when she saw Luna standing with a handful of rocks in her palms.

"I can't leave you. Sisters." Luna whispered comfortingly, and seemed unafraid of the polar bear, "How peculiar!"

Elizabeth would rather herself die than let Luna be hurt, not with the possibility of a child. She threw the knife, and it dug itself deep into pelt of the beast. Red blood dripped through the ratty white fur, onto the ground. The bear swung, unsure of whom to go after.

"Maybe if we start yelling, it will go away?" Elizabeth yelled to Luna, who shook her head.

"It's rabid. It's not thinking straight." Luna said, staring at the animal with sympathy, "Those monsters. How dare they use such a beautiful creature like this?" She sounded disgusted.

"Beautiful isn't what I'd call it." Elizabeth squeaked, ducked behind a bush, shutting her eyes, "Crap. Crap."

"We can take it. Together." Luna said, never taking her eyes off the bear.

"How?"

"Magic."

GREEN GAMES

Luna waited until Elizabeth wandered off to go to the bathroom. She did her business quickly, but was hesitant to go back. Ron was so anxious about…everything. While she liked to think she was fairly confident in most she did, in this matter…she was out of her league.

Her mother had told her when she was younger she knew from the moment she began to question if she might be with child that indeed she was.

"It's something mother's know." She told the young Luna, bopping her nose with a chuckle.

But Luna didn't feel anything. Did that mean she wasn't? She was?

There were some moments where she put her hand to her stomach and she felt as though she just knew, that something was in there. There were others she felt nothing, as though she'd dreamt the first feeling up totally, and it was just as flat as usual. There were times she dreamed of her child, and times she couldn't recall the face even if she tried.

The world was giving her mixed signals, and for the first time in her life, Luna couldn't decipher it.

More often than not, Luna hoped there was nothing there. And if there was, she felt awful, dirty thoughts plaguing her mind, like how it might be better if she miscarriage anyway. The arena was no place to deal with a pregnancy, and what would she tell the child, if she survived? That it's father had died in these awful games, and just because of her, Luna somehow got a free pass on it all? It angered her. No, she was angry with herself.

They'd been so careless, and never did either think that…

That's how it worked, thought, didn't it? Karma? As soon as you think that one thing should happen, it doesn't, and something else does.

Ron wanted to know. Her answer of her being just as oblivious to knowing as he did was frustrating him quickly, understandably so. She was the mother; theoretically therefore she should know it first…shouldn't she?

In her subconscious, a thought pushed forward. The forest was telling her something she should be heeding.

The silence.

She stood quickly, arranging her clothes back in order just in time to hear Elizabeth's cries and scream ring through the forest. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts she didn't even realize-another minus thirty points from Ravenclaw, how could she be so dense?

She broke into the field to see a white thing blocking her path.

Wait…a polar bear?

Confusion melted away quickly to fear, as she saw Elizabeth on the other side of the clearing, backed up against a tree, trembling as snot ran down her face and her whole body quivered.

She might be a future mother, she might not. But right now, she had Elizabeth to care about. Her friend and ally, someone who was terrified right now.

Luna promised she wasn't going to think of herself as she scooped up the handful of rocks.

GREEN GAMES

Luna was still motioning gently, as not to draw the bear to her movements, to Elizabeth.

"Come, come to me. If we can link hands, we might be able to call upon the forest's forces to help us. The energy is strong here, and this bear has crushed through the trees. The forest might be on our side."

"The forest-," Elizabeth almost choked, but then realized she didn't have a better idea. Just as she was trying to skirt along the clearing, Ron burst into the trees, caterwauling and making a scene.

"Luna! You got to run!" He said fiercely, standing between her and the bear.

"We can fight it. It's going to go and kill someone else if we don't now." Luna argued with him hotly.

"Let it!" Ron's voice was broken; "I only care about you right now. Please, please." He said. Luna wouldn't budge though.

"I can still be a good person here, Ron." She said, touching her heart with the tips of her fingers. Elizabeth was halfway around the clearing when it charged. Ron raised a long sword to combat it, but it batted him away with a paw swipe. Ron went skidding across the clearing, and his head hit a rock with a thud. There was no canon, and he didn't move, so Elizabeth assumed him unconscious. She bit her lip to keep from making noise.

"Elizabeth, grab it now!" Luna demanded, and Elizabeth lunged for her outstretched hand. It was too late though. The bear barreled forward, clawing her too, but with the other side of its claws. Instead of batting her to the side, it made a jagged mark up her stomach, ending at the top of her ribcage. Luna's eyes widened and she fell backwards.

Elizabeth couldn't help but scream now. The polar bear turned, eyes glazed and confused, and lumbered toward her, his breath toxic and smelling like rotting flesh. It jumped and Elizabeth rolled forward to grab Ron's sword from the ground, praying as she held it upward.

Warm blood ran down her fingers, down the hilt, as it impaled the beast. She was nearly suffocated in a pile of reeking fur that made her gag reflexes tighten and try to force her lunch up. She held her shaking hands until the beast stopped moving, crying silently beneath him. The bear must weight at least 600 pounds, for this was a large beast than the average, the knowledgeable part of her mind chimed in, very unhelpfully.

It was crushing her.

The cannons went off, and she had to take a moment to make sure she was still breathing, that it wasn't her.

It was Luna.

How could it not be?

Ron came to quickly, and he was dazed, but as soon as she heard his anguished cries, she knew it was true.

"Ron…please…" She said weakly, her voice hoarse and her body pained from the weight of the bear.

"Shit, Elizabeth." Ron did his best, and in the end, she had to shuffle mostly out herself, no matter how hard her bones ached.

"It's my fault. It's my entire fault. I should have-," Elizabeth said between her crying, and Ron grabbed her collapsed form. She was so bloody, and pressing against his bleeding arms, she couldn't tell who's was who's anymore.

"No, it's not. I don't blame you." Ron said, digging his nose into her hair, "I blame the beast."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She couldn't stop saying it. Even if he didn't blame her, Elizabeth couldn't stop the words from spilling from her lips, "Ron…"

"I know." Ron said, hugging her closer, his own voice quivering, "I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like you guys are going to come after me with pitchforks and torches after that death. *locks all doors*
> 
> But in more exciting news we are 10 REVIEWS AWAY FROM 100! Do you think we can hit the 100 mark? I have hope. I really do. I think we can :) So please, if you like this, help this story hit the 100 mark and leave a review! Even if it's screaming at me for killing Luna...
> 
> Was she pregnant? Was she not? I think that's something I'll let you guys wonder about too. Not that I'm evil and I don't want to tell you, but I think the mystery of it all is sort of fun. I promise by the end, you'll know, because Fred said he's telling Ron one way or another. But for now...focus on the living, eh?
> 
> And if anyone's like 'WTF was with that polar bear?!" It was a tribute to the tv show Lost. A polar bear appeared on a tropical island of plane crash survivors like in the first episode, making them all like 'what the hell?' as well. If anyone caught that reference or was even wondering if that's where I got the idea while reading it, kudos to you! :)
> 
> Now that I'm done with Omphalos, I think this story will be updated bi-weekly, which should give me time with my new busy school year- sophomore year, lots of credits, jobs, Rushing for a sorority. Whew! I'm going to busy this year!
> 
> Read and review if you liked!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, getting this out right on time! Lexie gets a gold star! yay!
> 
> Once again, this chapter is split into two parts because, you know, thirty pages is a little ridiculous to expect people to read all at once, or for me to edit and revise all at once XD But! Because of this, expect the next chapter within a week instead of two weeks, because it's mostly finished anyway. And oh, how I've been waiting and dreading this chapter. Maybe you'll love it and hate it by the end of next week? I don't know, maybe you'll love it. I'll just have to see.

Ron shook himself awake after falling; and there was only silence. It only confirmed his worst fears, and for a long moment…he didn't want to get up.

No, he wanted to stay supine, staring up at the ginger and umber leaves twirling down around him, and pretend the world was at a pause; nothing had changed, nothing was the same, everything was perfect.

He couldn't believe how cowardly he was being, nor how suddenly it became all too difficult for him to breathe altogether, and he took every ounce of whatever he had left to stand.

Luna's beautiful star-lit hair was sprawled on the ground, her once so inquisitive and glowing eyes looking upwards, blind and hazy. He stumbled forward as he took his first step, droplets of blood catching on his eyelashes as it trickled down the side of his face. His whole head swam with confusion in that moment, and he feared the damage that hit had done in the farthest back of his mind.

In the front of it, there was only his beautiful, broken Luna.

His fingers shook in front of him as they hovered above her form, too afraid to touch, too anguished to move.

"Luna…?"

Why was he whispering? Why was it a question? Did he expect her to answer? That was such a stupid thing to say; he felt angry at it.

And yet, when she said nothing, moved nothing, Ron felt it all bubble over his lips, and he cried. Of course his soul mate would die from being too damn selfless.

His eyes looked at her stomach, and it was ever as flat as it was this morning. Deep grief for a child he didn't know existed or not settled over him like a damp blanket, masking his whole emotional spectrum and causing his shoulders to balk.

There was a whimpering sound, and at first he feared the polar bear was back. Swinging his head around, he saw the body of it slumped on the field. It seemed to be moving, but it's eyes, just as blank as Luna's stared back at him, causing his body to quiver with panic. Was it being re-animated? Was this some sick trick from the game makers?

"Ron…help!" The cry of Elizabeth echoed from underneath the bear, and Ron realized he'd forgotten about her.

Elizabeth; the whole reason Luna wouldn't run in the first place. Before he could stop it, her name planted a tiny seed of darkness in his chest, one that clenched his heart and made his blood start to burn.

"Please-," She began to cough, and it was just then he really looked at the bear. It was obviously large, and it must be crushing her under there.

"Shit, Elizabeth." He cussed underneath his breath; half with anger of Luna, half with embarrassment he'd forgotten she was even there, his vision so eclipsed with Luna; it made him unperceptive and therefore vulnerable. Anyone could have come at him with an axe and done away with him, although he wasn't sure if he'd thank them or fight them. Looking back at Luna, he frowned. He might actually thank them.

With a hint of begrudging, he grabbed a meaty claw and attempted to push the bear off, but found the weight much more than he expected. Grunting with effort, he and Elizabeth managed to shove the great beast away, and soon Elizabeth's tiny body squirmed away from it. Her whole face was drenched in sweat and blood, and when she neared, the stench of death clung to her like some sort of beacon. She had killed the bear; he realized, and the darker part of him also snidely reminded him she'd killed his Luna.

When she literally fell into his arms, she dissolved into hiccuped sobs, leaving Ron stiff and pained.

She seemed so broken too; apologizing over and over, blaming herself. The mantra just kept coming out, and Ron felt his form relax, breathing into her small, shaking figure.

He pressed his nose against her head, blinking back, and trying to cry again.

"No, it's not. I don't blame you. I blame the beast." He consoled, and it must have been the right thing, for she stopped. Strangely, the words sounded empty and hollow when he said them, and they echoed around his mind now, as he wondered what was off with it?

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Ron…" She sniffled, her words melting away into just shaking.

He patted her head, staring out into the forest, his breath catching in his throat. Where was he going to go from here? How was he going to find the strength to survive without his Luna? How was he going to look at each day and not have the urge to throw himself off the nearest cliff?

He knew what Luna would say, what she would do if he'd been the one who died. She'd throw herself into keeping Elizabeth safe, and she'd giggle and chastised him forever thinking of leaving the small girl. She was just a child, yet Luna had so many wonderful things on her housemate, and Ron knew she cared for the girl deeply. He would have protected Malfoy if that's what he knew Luna would have wanted him to do, the best way to remember her best, even if the very thought of it sent immediate red-flags to his mind and curled his lip in distaste.

So he would protect Elizabeth with his life, but looking down at her?

He suppressed a noise of disgust.

"I know." He replied emotionlessly to her apologizes, shoving down the worst truth in the world as the seed blossomed into an ugly, poisonous flower that spit out what he was once again too scared to say out loud.

He did blame Elizabeth.

GREENGAMES

In some ways, Hermione had forgotten about being in the Green Games until she heard the cannon. It wasn't an obvious sound, not like being above ground when the game makers made sure everyone could hear it for miles around, but it shook the ground and a dusting of dirt sprinkled down on top of them.

The conversation lapsed into silence after that.

"Who do you think it was?" Seamus was far braver than she.

"I hope its Pansy." Hermione said with a monotone voice she didn't know she had previously, "I hope she drops dead."

"That would be too good of luck." Seamus winced, frowning. Hermione agreed.

"I hope it's not…" Seamus began softly, licking his lips, "Ron…or Luna." He added after a moment, "Both would be awful."

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost Ron."

Hermione drew her legs up in front of her, and for the first time, considered what it would be like if she was suddenly the only one left from the trio they'd made first year. Sure, they didn't talk like they used to, but Ron was still…Ron. And whenever she looked at him, she remembered the polyjuice potion, Fluffy, his fear of spiders, her fear when they didn't arrive on the Hogwarts train that second year. It would still be odd to have him gone; leave something in her chest empty and strangely poignant. She prayed to Merlin she wasn't there yet.

"There has to be at least half of us left." Seamus overrode her musings, and Hermione agreed after a slow nod.

"I can't recall all the deaths, some I didn't see, but we have to at least be almost there."

"I say we are." Seamus said, rolling his eyes upward in thought of counting the cannons, "Congrats," He added when he looked back at her, "Top twelve?"

"I don't know if we should celebrate or mourn." Hermione said honestly.

"Usually, we'd have time for either. But here? All the time in the world." He said, waving his arm around as if showing Hermione a five-star hotel. She couldn't help it; she giggled. But then they vanished. Seamus sighed, linking his fingers in her own. She stared silent at the interlocked digits, running her mind through a million different things.

"What is the first thing you're going to do?" She asked, her voice quivering, "When you get out?"

"Of here?" Seamus waved around to the cave, "Or here." He made a bigger motion with his remaining hand.

"The games."

"You're so sure I'll survive, huh?" He said, not quite answering, more surprised than anything.

"I am." Hermione turned toward him, giving a pained smile, "Or maybe I want to believe it more than anything else?"

"Well, either way, when I make it out…" He thought for a moment, "I'm going to take a really warm shower and scrub until my skin hurts." He paused, a devilish grin across his face, "You are welcome to join."

"Seamus!" Hermione hit him playfully, rolling her eyes, "I'm sure the game makers clean us up. We have to go on stage right after, you know?"

"Ew. Game makers. For sure need a shower." He said, then paused, and then swore, "I'm an adult."

"Huh?"

"When I was a first year, I didn't shower for two months, until McGonagall forced me to. She got an older male prefect to stand by the shower and everything. And now, I'm so boring, I say I'm going to shower. It's like askin for socks for Christmas."

"You didn't shower for two months? I can't believe I never noticed that." She said, trying to recall if Seamus was any smellier than any other boy, but alas her memory failed her.

"You were too busy being Hermione to notice. Not that I was tryin to get yer attention, mind ya. I was just being a rebellious little snot. And Dean dared me five galleons I couldn't go until Christmas without taking one."

"Did you win?"

Seamus clicked his tongue, "Missed it by two weeks."

"What a shame." Hermione chuckled.

"What are you gunna do?"

"Me? I haven't really thought bout it." She admitted, "Go back to London for awhile, I think. Muggle London. With them. I mean, it seems silly, after I competed and all to be able to keep my magic to go without it for a while? I think I just need time not to be reminded."

"That sounds mighty pleasin'." Seamus said, nodding in agreement, "As turned around as it may be."

"I could have left this world any time I wanted." Hermione mused out loud, "My parents begged me. But no, magic was too precious to lose. But after being here, doing this? I do wonder…if it's really all worth it in the end. Is it truly worth my life?" She gave a helpless shrug, "I haven't figured that one out."

"I envy yeh." Seamus said, "Even if I wanted to run way and give it up voluntarily, I wouldn't know how to survive without magic. I may be a half-blood, but that don't make me no more a survivalist in muggle parts than a dragon is."

"It's…well, it would be difficult. I've lived half my life as magical, and the parts I didn't I hardly recall. It's really within our blood, our lives, and us. I think about it, and then other times, I wonder how I could be so dense to even think that. I wouldn't survive."

"Hush now!" Seamus shook his head, "If anyone can manage to make life okay out there, it would be yeh. You'd find something to make life worthwhile. It's what Hermione does." He tugged on a strand of curly hair.

Hermione's stomach growled.

"Merlin, we haven't eaten yet today, have we?" Seamus asked, "Or tonight. Whenever. It's some time right now."

"We haven't eaten in a long time." Hermione amended, and reached for the sack, "Let's see what's left…"

GREENGAMES

"My feet hurt." Caligula plopped himself down on a log, tenderly rubbing her calloused palms along the rough edges of his feet. He'd lost his shoes awhile back, but luckily the soles of his feet had always had a leathery skin.

"Cal; we're getting nowhere." Mandy said, tapping her foot impatiently and running her fingers through her pink hair. Well, now it was turning back blond, her original color, and the roots showing through. It bothered her that none of her magic she could do was strong enough for a transformation spell on her head. She abhorred her platinum blonde hair, it reminded her all too much of the Malfoy family. Though, lately, she'd heard he was a healer. She would believe that when House Elves rebelled; anyone who believed that was obviously falling right into a trap.

She was a Ravenclaw, much smarter than that!

"I can't help it my shoes got disintegrated by the spider venom." He snapped. Sure, throwing his shoes at the big freaking spiders might not have been the best choice of weapons, and they'd been destroyed to a pile of mush, but it had confused the beasts long enough for he and Mandy to escape.

"Yep, really took one for the team." She said dryly.

"I don't get why we moved." Cal said, stretching his back until there was an audible crack, and he sighed in relief, "Our old camp was perfectly fine."

"Because there's still Ravenclaws out there. Two good, one that needs taken care of." Mandy said, referring to Luna, Elizabeth, and Michael. Cal scowled.

"Someone else will off Corner. He's had it coming for years." He argued sourly.

Mandy pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing in deep frustration. "Look. I get it. You've only really been a Ravenclaw for like what, three years? It's different for you. But for me, a true Ravenclaw…what he did was unacceptable. Someone needs to make sure he's held accountable." She said firmly.

"You're sounding quite like a Gryffindor." Cal said distastefully.

"You're sounding like a scared little squib!" Mandy said, stomping off away from him. Most of the time, they were fighting. It was more convince than actual kinship that brought this alliance together, and many times, Mandy wondered if it was worth it.

When there was more of her kind in one place, she told herself, it would get better. Luna always had a way to pacify grouchy Cal, a pain in the ass from the moment he was sorted. He was brilliant, unfortunately. Much smarter than she was, and had a real thirst for knowledge. Had he not, he would have fit rightly well with the Slytherins.

And his natural magic was nothing to scoff at. Caligula had been born in the United States to a Native American couple before they moved to England for work. Caligula wasn't his birth name, as expected, but one he'd picked up after years at Durmstrang. She often wondered what his real name was, but never felt it important to ask. He was a pureblood, so it wouldn't be too outlandish to imagine it was some stuffy ancestor of his, from years and years back.

But because of his heritage, he had a closer relationship with nature than she'd ever seen anyone else had. It was the whole Disney Princess thing; talking to animals and hugging trees. It had kept them safe on more than one occasion so far, meaning he wasn't totally useless, and therefore was worthwhile to keep around for a bit longer.

She came back to him, calmer than before.

"You done?" Cal asked, languid as he crossed his legs on the tree-truck.

"You done?" She asked hotly, and he gave a shrug and a noncommittal grunt. Then he sighed, watching Mandy's stern look and her hands on his hips, "Fine, fine. Onward." He waved a dirt-encrusted hand.

"You love nature, don't you?" She asked, as he complained about the mud between his toes and the branches in his once silky, long black hair a bit later. Cal pulled a face.

"Sure, but I don't always need to get up close and personal. She's like an over-attached girlfriend. I like the way she moves, but only in small amounts." He said, swatting away a bee buzzing around his head.

"I thought you were gay."

"Not the point." Caligula dismissed her with raised eyebrows.

They made good time, in Mandy's humble opinion, even if they did stop five more times without any good reason. Two to nurse his sore feet, and maybe one of those times he did have a thorn the size of Scotland wedged in there, once to examine the moss on a rock to see what his ancestors were telling him (something about which American baseball team or something had won something; in short, completely useless information), once to basically throw himself in a small creek to drink water and wash the debris from his hair the best he could, and lastly to commune with his ancestors once again, and this time they came to him in the form of a weird mouse thing.

It wasn't that she didn't believe it, she did live in a weirdly magical world where nothing made sense for Merlin's sake, but she did think his ancestors coming and squeaking in his ear was a little far-fetched. She didn't even think he spoke mouse-hybrid until now.

"There's something coming up that way." He said when he finished with the mouse, gently setting it back into the bracken, "I couldn't tell if it was good or bad. He might have said 'warning' or he might have said 'algae'."

"Hmm." Mandy hummed, half-listening to Cal, "Well, keep our eyes peeled, I suppose?" What else could she say, with so little information? Yet, she did make her footsteps lighter and felt her body go on full alert, turning in to things of the forest that weren't common sounds, but thus so far, there was nothing.

At a line of trees that seemed to lead to a clearing, Cal stopped dead in his tracks.

"No." He hissed under his breath, "I can feel the dark energy. I've stayed alive by running the other way from that so far!" He said, backing up about ten feet.

"You're being ridiculous! I can't even hear anything!" Mandy snapped back at him, irritated of his seemingly skittish attitude. Normally, Ravenclaws would appreciate a well-reasoned logical approach to things, but this was the Green Games, and they were long past being cautious about everything. At least, she was.

She passed the trees, and heard Cal give a sharp intake of breath, and pushed aside the bushes just enough to peer through.

"Jackpot." She breathed, trying not to twitch or crack a leaf. Michael Corner was sleeping out in the open, far into daylight. How fortuitous of her. She slipped her makeshift knife from her sheath. While it wasn't the sharpest, she was sure that if she could get the first cut in, he'd wake up but be too weak to fight her, and she could sever his neck by the third cut, at least.

But when she stood up, rising above the bushes, her knife fell to the floor. Pansy and Pike were sleeping just past him, too close for comfort.

Her fingers quivered as she picked back up her knife.

On one hand, she was tempted to try to go at Pansy right off the bat. Why not take out the most dangerous girl in the game, a girl who had done more damage than anyone else?

It would have to be a choice. She knew she'd wake them all with the first slice, and she might manage to kill someone before the other two rushed at her. She was outnumbered, and it was likely a suicide mission.

She weighed the knife in her hands. Was this worth it? Pansy was powerful, no doubt. Who was to say she'd even be able to kill her to begin with? That Pansy wouldn't turn the tables and kill Mandy herself?

Mandy, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming in aggravation turned and walked away.

She hated she was a Ravenclaw and knew better than to pick that fight.

GREENGAMES

Hours later, hard facts had to be admitted.

They had no food left that wasn't waterlogged beyond compare, her foot might have been infected, and worst…they had no water.

It was one of those situations that really made Hermione want to punch something. A crashing river was right below them, and Seamus could make a fire, to purify it, but they had nothing to put the water in. No tins or canteens left, nothing Hermione or Seamus could make due, just…nothing.

It was awful.

Who would have really thought that hours of just mindless talk, sleeping, and maybe a couple kisses could exhaust them so much?

The first hour she was thirsty, she said nothing. The second hour, she almost did, but stayed quiet. It was finally into the third hour of thirst she admitted her fears of survival.

"We can't stay down here." Seamus pouted, shaking his head, "We need to go back up." There was an unknown emotion to his voice, something hard and pained, and a nuanced emotion Hermione almost missed- longing.

In the weirdest way, she understood. Down here was like a magical damp and moist cave of ignorance. They could stay down here, worry about whose cannon had gone off, but they didn't have to really know, and apart from their own demons and now hunger; there wasn't anything dangerous to face. Had they sufficient enough sustenance, and her foot wasn't so awful, Hermione could have been convinced into staying down here as long as they could manage. To have their time cut off so abruptly felt rude and unfair to Hermione.

She really wanted more time with Seamus.

They would go up there, and she could only hope nothing would happen. No poisonous spiders would crawl and bite him in his sleep, no maladies would enter through a weird fruit the game-makers devised, and no griffins would swoop from the sky and snatch him up. Down here they were in a perfect shield.

And they had to leave it.

"You can't even stand." Seamus realized when she began to put weight on her hurt ankle, and her whole body buckled.

"I just…it's sore." She lied through her teeth.

"Hermione let me see it." He'd wrapped it, trying to make a splint out of sticks and pieces of his shirt that were already falling away. Hermione unraveled it to see the colors around the break had evolved in such a short time to ugly, stormy colors that looked swollen and soft. Seamus' finger poked it, away from the main break, and it was agony all over again. Hermione stumbled back, falling on her butt, watching as Seamus gently picked her foot up by the tips of her toes and up her calf.

"Shit."

"What?" Hermione asked, her head still swimming in a daze of pain. Seamus' face was deadly serious and grim as he turned her foot just slightly to see a disgusting cut on the bottom of her foot, oozing pus and secreting dark, unhealthy looking blood.

"Who knows what I picked up from the river!" Hermione felt her mind jump into overdrive, seeing her wound. It was so horrendous to look at, and she felt as though she would barf if she looked a second longer. Then again, that might just have been her unquenched thirst. Either way, she turned her head, and felt her throat convulse and heave up bitter bile from the depths of her stomach.

"I guess you should leave me, then." Hermione bit her lip, proud of herself for even having such courage to say that. Seamus gave her a horrified look.

"No!" He said firmly, "I…I'll die down here with you if that is your plan!"

"You don't deserve to die because of me." Hermione mumbled, the logical side of her mind taking over once again, "I would slow you down. And who knows how long I have left, even so?" She motioned to her foot; "The game makers could have contacted all sorts of diseases that might leave me dead within hour-,"

"Shut up, will ya?" Seamus was more upset with her than she'd ever seen him, "It's crazy talk, ken? You're certifiably crazy."

"What can we do?" Hermione's voice had reached a strained, thin point. It wasn't even rhetorical. She wanted to know, because deep down, she wasn't ready to die.

"We got to…medicine. Someone up there will give it to yeh, if you can just hold on a little while longer, okay?" He said, "So many people love you up there." Even so, the doubt showed through his layer of confidence. It was hard to get items through, even in dire situations. Would it even come in time?

"Fred." Hermione gasped out as he set her foot down. It hadn't been a violent setting down, but even just touching a tiny part of her flesh anywhere sent her whole body stiff, "Somehow get his attention, he'll be watching, and he can get things right away." She said.

"How…wouldn't he do that for Ron?" His implied statement was 'and not you', which Hermione was a little miffed about.

"He will. I'm betting my life on it, sort of." She gave a small smile, and Seamus looked horribly conflicted, "Go find him. Find water and food, I'm really thirsty." She added.

Seamus stayed silent for a couple moments.

"I don't want to just leave you."

"You have to. We don't have much of another choice, do we?" She asked, leaning back against the rock and wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.

"How are you so…calm?" He said, and it was just now she noticed his whole body quivering.

"It's not you that's hurt." She answered honestly, "I care about my self, don't get me wrong, but it's always harder to watch those you care about in pain, knowing there's little you can do, or wondering if your choices were right." She thought about Lavender, "With my body, I can be confident in any choice I make, and if it doesn't work, it was only my own fault."

Seamus thought about it for a long moment, "How do we even get out of here?" He asked.

Ever since Hermione had begun to realize they'd have to leave, she'd been carefully watching the cave. She had focused on where the tiny rays of light were coming through, and what ways the particles in the air drifted upward. She watched for any signs of life, like flies, and which way they flew. She watched everything.

"See that corner over there? It's sort of crumbling? I think if we dig that way-,"

"We? Me. You shouldn't upset your leg any more than you already have." Seamus corrected her. Hermione groaned in frustration.

"We!" She said, "I'm not going to sit here like…like and invalid!"

Seamus shook his head at her, and went over to the patch she'd pointed to. Arranging his feet carefully on some rocks, he began to claw out. When Hermione attempted to get up, Seamus stood firmly in front of it, refusing to move away and continue again until she was sitting.

All his time preparing had build Seamus like a firm rock, impossible to move, even if she had proper balance of her feet. She begrudgingly sat down, packing up everything useful for Seamus. He'd need it out there more than she would. She did glare at him periodically, to properly show her discontent with this work situation. Seamus seemed not to care.

A couple hours later, he had created a hole that if he worked just right, he could wiggle through. The sun spilt into the cave, and they both blinked, shielding their eyes. It had been more than a day since seeing anything so bright, and it did burn.

"Be safe." Hermione said, forcing herself to stand so she could hand him the package. Something else was lingering on her tongue, but she just nodded, biting her lip.

"I'll be back." He said, rolling his shoulders, "Don't worry about that." He didn't seem nervous at all. He slung the bag over his shoulder, adjusting the straps, "You stay here. Don't die, okay?" He said, chuckling and Hermione looked at her ankle.

"Medicine as soon as you can would help." She admitted, and Seamus' face grew stony, as he began to focus in on the mission. Medicine first, then water, then food. In that order. Nothing else.

He looked at Hermione, his heart swelling with fear and pride. She was so stubborn, wasn't she? Lordy, if he was a weaker man, a girl like Hermione Granger would eat him, leaving him a corpse. That's what he sort of loved about her, it wasn't just her will, and everything about Hermione was done to the 110% percent- every emotion, every whisper of her being.

He looked back once again as he began to ascend up, and gave her a thumbs up. She gave one back, and he felt more confident as he climbed.

It was hard work, and he more than once had to stop to dislodge some more rocks in his way. His hands were cut and dirty from the trek, but not too badly. It wasn't more than a wipe of it on his clothing. Finally, he breached the surface of the ground, and pushing himself up.

He felt like a fish coming up and out of the water, and he slumped next to the hole on his back, breathing in the fresher air out here. He hoped that this hole would ventilate Hermione down there. They hadn't had a problem yet with the breathing air, but who knew?

He also knew that all cameras would be on him. They'd know where they were; they'd know he was here. He made the very obvious motion of standing, trying to seem strong or confident. He feared his façade wasn't working.

He took a couple steps, and thought about to what Hermione had said about Fred. Did he really trust Ron's brother so much? Sure, Fred had never been mean to him, nor give him any reason to distrust him, but putting Hermione's life in someone else's hands?

He was tempted to ignore her advice and seek Draco out. The main problem was, he had no clue where the blond Slytherin was, and he could spend more time than Hermione had looking for him. Putting aside his own gut reaction to helping Hermione, looked directly up.

"Yo, Fred?" He snapped his fingers a bit, unsure on if this would even get his attention, or if he was even watching, "Uh? Hermione said that I should ask you for help." His skin burned to admit it. He wanted to help Hermione on his own, but her broken and infected ankle was far beyond anything he could do.

He described the best he could the looks of Hermione's infected skin, and after he ended, he stood for a couple seconds. He rocked on the balls of his feet. Was he supposed to wait? Go? Would Fred send it to him soon?

After five minutes of silence, he began to hear the forest come into focus around him. It was dangerous to stay in one place. People like Pansy and Corner were still out there, last he knew. He would be tempting fate to hope it had been one of them to die.

He began to walk; maybe he'd be lucky enough to run into Malfoy?

He found a little trickling creek, just enough water to collect it to burn it so it would be safe for drinking. It looked innocuous enough, but who knew if there was a carcass up the way or what had been through this water?

He had never been so grateful for his fire ability.

He first constructed a place to boil it, but stacking river rocks together and slapping wet mud between the cracks, and then using his fire as hot as he could to cement it. He was quite confused for a bit on how to transport the water, but then he noticed the water-resistibility of his jacket. The hood was already tearing apart, so he unclasped it, and burned the plastic bits together carefully. He hoped the horrid smell would dissuade animals and others instead of leading it to him.

Water was much easier to transport to the heater after, and while it seemed to take forever, soon he had the whole brim bubbling with water. It filled to the top of the 'canteen' by the time it had settled, and he burned the sides together once again, making a bubble. They could cut it open with a knife and drink straight from the pouch when he returned to Hermione.

He selfishly drank the remaining water at the bottom, reveling on the absolute best feeling of the warm water sloshing in his very empty stomach. He was just sitting, letting the water seep through all his veins, when a little parcel floated with a tingling bell near his nose.

He leapt up, anxious and excited, and only found a note from Fred.

I got you covered. Sent it directly to Hermione. If she's as bad as you describe, she needs it ASAP-Fred

He crunched it up in his palm, worry gnawing at stomach. What if it never made it to Hermione? What if she didn't get it in time? Shouldn't he just bring it to her, to make sure she got it?

He was properly distracted as he attempted to hunt.

A squirrel basically ran over his trap, and he was so caught up in his own thought, he didn't even get it! He was caught between worrying for Hermione even more and being upset at himself for letting this get in the way of their survival. They needed to eat, Hermione especially to get her strength up. For that, she needed protein, which was apparently a whole lot harder to find in a forest than one would imagine.

He decided to focus only on the hunt, so he could get enough food, so he could go back to Hermione quicker. If he let both ideas infiltrate his mind, he'd never get to either.

He was pretty sure he was in the zone; or apparently not, when he nearly beheaded the Native American kid in the games, and Mandy came at him with a machete.

They stared at each other a couple seconds, the feeling as though they were both eyeing each other, trying to figure out if they would attack. It was a feeling he never thought he'd be so acquainted with, but yet here he was, eyeing her posture and knife, and finally her eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you." Seamus said, perhaps making what could be qualified as the dumbest move of the games yet, but dropped his knife, stepping away from it.

It was a gamble that was for sure.

But Mandy also relaxed herself, kicking his knife back toward him.

"I'm not either." She said, sheathing her knife, "I'm not looking for a fight today."

Obviously, if she had, Seamus knew he could only run. Two against one? It was unlikely he'd win.

"Well…" He nodded to them, not wanting to make her regret her choice, and turned.

"Finnegan, wait!" The Native American kid who Seamus still did know the name of, called to him. Seamus turned, and Mandy looked at her partner curiously.

"Don't go that way. Pansy, Pike, and Corner are all sleeping in a clearing. We didn't wake 'em, but if they're awake now…" He trailed off. Seamus at first was floored with relief for the kid's tip, but then his eyes narrowed to slits. He hated how this game had made him a cynic.

"Why would you tell me that? How do I know you're telling the truth?" He asked in a low tone.

"Consider it even." The kid ran his fingers through his messy hair, "You saved me from Blaise in the beginning of the games, now I'm saving your arse. We're even." He said, and Seamus did faintly recall shoving a contender he didn't know out of the way of a knife, and then grabbing him up and forcing him to run. It had just been the adrenaline, and he hadn't done it intentionally, but he was so glad now he'd done it.

"Come on, Cal." Mandy said, "You can trust him. I saw them." She added with a hiss to Seamus' direction, "Hopefully we don't meet again." She said, throwing a wolfish smile his way. They were both half bloods; the indication was clear. A shiver ran down Seamus' spine, and he nodded in understanding.

Pansy was angrily close to the camp; and he had a feeling he knew exactly what clearing she was in; the one he'd found Hermione. They hadn't gotten very far when the ground had collapsed beneath them, and the river had carried them a shorter distance than he thought. Then again, when he couldn't tell up from down, it seemed like he was splashing for eons.

He skirted a wide berth around the clearing, and managed to bag a couple birds from the trees, enough so that maybe Hermione could have three and he could have two. He wasn't upset that she'd get more; she clearly needed them.

His eyes always watched the direction the clearing was. It was unlike Pansy to sleep during the day, and this unnerved him. She was planning something, he was sure of it. Or, worse, she was already stalking this forest, just waiting for-

He suppressed a sound of fear. That girl terrified him, and whenever he had looked at her during training, the most awful feeling had made his bones turn to lead. There was something more about her that he didn't want to find out.

She was easily avoidable, though. With any luck, they'd stick around under the cave for another day, cover back up the hole, and wait for her to pass. Pansy wasn't a girl to stay in one place long; that much was sure. If he gave her a good 24 hours, he was sure they could avoid her at least for now.

He walked a little faster back to the cave.

GREENGAMES

The game makers had filled this arena with as much magic as they could. As it was, they were already building the perfect arena for this year when the students that were participating this year had only just celebrated Halloween. In short, focusing magic even into such a large space took much time, and they filled it to the brim.

Therefore, it wasn't totally unexpected to imagine that the magic during this time could grow by itself, twisting and contorting to things even the game makers didn't expect. If it had been a forest with goodness in it, the magic would have been pure. But as it were, this forest was made to be the final resting place of more than twenty children, all too young to be doing this as it were, and therefore, the magic that stemmed on it's own was not good.

The particular area Pansy and her minions had fallen asleep in was one such place. The trees had watched Justin been killed, they had grown the berries around, and watched as Hermione had killed Blaise. They'd seen and felt every footstep that vibrated through the dirt around the area.

When the magic around the circle spiked, and the game makers scrambled to know why, something very odd was happening there. The three sleeping were put under a trance, a sort of spell that kept them unconscious all day long, their bodies in a frozen state of slumber. It also dissuaded anyone from entering it. Had Mandy encounter them by herself, she might have been foolhardy enough to take Pansy on right then and there. But as it was, she wasn't, and that was mostly thanks to the magic surrounding the area, just like the way Muggles couldn't see Hogwarts.

The lead game maker was in frenzy, yelling and screaming at the workers to figure out what was going on when the sky only around that area of the forest darkened, as though it was night, and the heavy clouds moved in. But no one really heard; they all watched the screens in front of them with half-horror, jaws hanging open.

A heavy mist slithered across the ground, and it spiraled up into two forms. A worker, who was monitoring it heat sensors and other indicators, sucked in sharply through his teeth.

"Shit…"

Yes; this accurately summed up much of everyone's reactions. Then again, they should have known better than to play around with such dangerous and dark magic so freely.

Pansy herself blinked awake, confused about the time. She felt as though she'd been sleeping all day, but the sky around her was still dark. She was one of those people very in-tune with the light, and never slept past sunrise. Therefore, she surmised it must have only have been a couple hours after she'd lain down to sleep. She got up, stumbling over her own feet to Pike.

"Yo, Webber." She said, and nudged his shoulder roughly to wake him. She was thirsty, and she needed someone to watch her back. But he was unresponsive, and apart from his low breathing, Pansy would have wondered if he'd died during the night.

She checked on Corner, and found him just as stony.

The hair on the back of her spine rose, and Pansy felt a cold chill run through her body. The dark magic grabbed her wrist like fire, and her whole body began to quake. She wasn't dumb to think that dark magic wasn't dangerous, and such magic as strong as this wasn't foretelling something worse.

She turned around slowly, and screamed a brief second before slapping her hand hard over her lips, biting on her palm to keep from making noise. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she quivered.

It took a lot to make Pansy scared; she laughed at horror movies, scoffed at haunted houses, and enjoyed the whole deal behind scaring, so most attempts were amateur to her. But this?

The mist around her ankles and frozen the ice over in a thin layer of frost, and it had spiraled upwards into two figures. Her eyes darted over their misty appearances, and realized whatever this was; it was more than merely ghosts. Their faces were sunken in, eyes blackened and emotionless. Blood dripped from their lips and other places, and their skin was pulled taught across their bones to the point it ripped in some places. The stench of death and decay clogged her nose, and Pansy held her breath. The hair was ratted and maggots inched around the faces. A bony finger reached toward her, and she realized her tears had somehow turned to half-fear, half-sadness.

"Blaise, Daphne…" She tried to stifle her fear, "What…happened to you?" Her voice was deathly quiet.

"People like us, Pansy…me, you, her…we don't get to move on." Blaise gave a toothy grin, but blood just dribbled over his bruised chin, and she flinched.

"So you're ghosts?" She tried to understand, although they looked like no ghosts she'd ever seen.

"I wish…" Daphne's voice was the same wistful tone she knew, even though it only faintly looked like the friend she once had, "This place is evil, this arena, Pansy. Those that were not good, we are eaten alive by the everlasting hunger." She said, looking sadly at her body.

"You both look like shit."

Pansy wasn't sure what possessed her to say that; not when she was standing in front of the almost reanimated corpses of what used to be her friends, and she wasn't sure if they would be like they were the whole time. Was it a person's soul that got left behind first, or their physical shape?

But Blaise and Daphne looked at each other, a stifle of a laugh, and nodded in agreement. Their amusement slid off their faces rapidly, and as their expressions did, so did a part of Daphne's face, leaving the whiteness of her skull at her cheekbone exposed.

"Can I do anything?" Pansy whispered, very unlike her. But seeing them in such agony beside her, it flared something inside of her she hadn't felt in years; friendship.

"We don't know. We don't even know if we'll be released when this ends; everyone will leave this arena, but will the ugly magic leave too? Sometimes I think I'll be trapped forever;" She gave a choked sob, and blood dripping from her eye-sockets, but it was old looking, as though it had been curing for days.

"We have a theory though." Blaise said, placing a hand near her. He couldn't quite touch her; no doubt another curse of this forest, but the motion seemed to calm her all the same. Pansy was sure that without each other, they wouldn't have survived so long. Love; that saved things, as sappy as it was to imagine, "One you'll like."

"Tell me." Pansy pleaded.

"Revenge." Blaise's already black eyes seemed to darken at the words, but in a way that sent an excited shiver up her back, "Hermione killed me."

"And Draco me," Daphne added, but seeing Pansy's expression, hurried to continue to speak, "But he wouldn't have killed me if he wasn't protecting that little Ravenclaw bitch Elizabeth."

"Yes, yes. I will kill both of them for you." Pansy said. She would have either way, but not she wanted to make both those women suffer so much more. She wanted to rip their hearts from their chests while it was still beating, and watch it stop its palpitations in her hand. She wanted to gorge out their eyes, make where they say as black and empty as Blaise' and Daphne's own eyes.

"Elizabeth and Hermione are close. Elizabeth is just a couple miles to the west; and she's emotionally drained. She should be easy. Hermione is closer, but cowardly hiding in a cave. Soon it will be dark for real; don't let this dissuade you. Go now…Pike and Corner will slow you down." Daphne told her. Pansy hopped between her feet, nodding excitedly.

"Yes, yes! Of course. You will be released by tonight. If not, I will win and force them to strip the forest of the magic." She said. She also knew she needed to win because she would not become like they did.

Blaise and Daphne shared another look, one of those couple-like looks she didn't understand, "Even that might be enough." Blaise' voice cracked, "We might already be gone by that time."

"Gone?"

"Nothing left." Daphne whimpered, "Not even a wisp of our magical signature. Just wiped away from existence."

The idea of someone's magical signature just vanishing made Pansy shudder. You could still feel Salazar's if you were adept in magic enough, and it was never going to fade. Everyone left a magic signature somewhere, no matter how weak it was. One skilled at wandless magic and magic theory could feel what wizard at a location that had ever been there, pick up on their signatures like individual scents. The very idea that Daphne and Blaise's couldn't ever be felt again was perhaps one of the most terrifying things she had ever had the displeasure to imagine.

It would be as though they'd never existed in the first place.

"I'll hurry. I'll end this game. Hold on." She said, reaching out. Her hand touched the whips that made them, and the most disgusting and cold feeling spread through her body. She kept her hand there as long as she could manage, and when she retracted it, it felt as if it had been shot and was now hanging limply.

"We have to go back." Blaise said, looking at the ground, "More sins to account for." He said, shaking his head, "More dark magic borrowed to give back."

Pansy watched in horror and agony as they were pulled back into the ground, their skin melting off their bodies, and bones melting into the mist. As Daphne vanished, Pansy heard a final desperate cry; "Save me, Pansy. Plea-,".

Then….silence.

It was the worst silence Pansy had ever heard.

"I will kill everyone for you two." Pansy said, grabbing her knife from her pack as softly as she could, although she was pretty sure the boys were still within whatever spell had been put on the grounds, "I owe it to you. I owe it to myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this might have seemed like a lot of setting up, and I do apologize for that. I can assure you that more action and things you've been waiting for happen next chapter!
> 
> If you have any predictions I would love to hear them! I always love to see if people get things right, or not! Sometimes you guys make an off handed comment and I'm sitting here like 'oh, if only you knew...' lol
> 
> Please, if you're enjoying this, take the time to leave kudos :) The best way to show others what an awesome story it is is to boost the kudo count, because that's how a lot of people search for stories!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a little late. My family came down and surprised me for my birthday this weekend. So the time I thought I'd have to finish up this chapter was spent instead playing board games, going out to eat, the movies, football games...but you know, it was really fun.
> 
> Also, I wonder if I just didn't want to finish this chapter...as a writer, you know there's certain chapters that need to be written, but you don't want to. This is sorta one of them. You'll likely see why by the end.

Draco sat up abruptly, eyes narrowed toward the tree line; hands caught way in between skinning the rabbit Colin had caught. Colin, who was already salivating just thinking about it, noticed immediately when Draco's actions paused; he was looking forward to eating that thing as quickly as possible.

"What?" Colin finally asked after what seemed like eons of Draco sitting rigid and emotionless. Draco let out a little hiss, almost feline like, and Colin raised an eyebrow.

"Pansy." He spat, shoving the squirrel aside and standing.

"…What?" Colin was too confused to worry about the squirrel, frankly he was wondering if Draco had gone bonkers. He did not see any smidgen of Pansy, nor did he hear anything other than a really irritating bird out there. Unless Pansy was the bird…?

"I can feel her. She's prowling around close to here. It's been bothering me all day, I'm an idiot for not realizing it until now!" He stomped on the ground, shaking his head angrily.

"You can feel her?" Colin chuckled, raising a singular eyebrow.

"Yes, you perv, her magical signature." Draco spun around, sighing in exasperation, "I can feel almost everyone's, although most times I don't know who it is. I only just figured out that it was hers that was interfering with my thoughts. Figures; Pansy is annoying even on the subconscious level." He said, throwing up his hands.

"Whoa. Can you feel my magical profile or whatever?" Colin asked, grinning. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I've spent enough time with you to be able to find it in my sleep, Creevey. You reek of fire and glitter."

"Fire and glitter?" Colin objected loudly, "Fire and-,"

"Hush!" Draco growled to him, although behind their little bubble of protection, no one could hear him. Colin thought it might merely be Draco was irritated with him. Well Colin was irritated with him back! Fire and glitter, of all the ridiculous things he'd ever heard. Colin wasn't even gay. And could you smell glitter? Unlikely.

"Can't you feel it?" Draco waved his hand around, "Her's is overpowering." He wrinkled his nose. Colin stood firm, closing his eyes and outstretching his hand. He wasn't sure why, perhaps it was what he was supposed to do.

He couldn't feel anything though, not when there was suddenly the acute and acidic smell of burning plastic and decaying meat. He stumbled back, covering his nose.

"Merlin what's that awful smell?" He hissed, and forgot to not inhale; yet when he did, the scent was gone.

"Pansy." Draco said flatly.

"Crap." Colin stared out into the forest in wonder, "I can't even feel yours, mate." He turned apologetically to Draco.

"I'm good at masking it." Draco shrugged, "But Pansy's? It's overpowering. She's close, or she's done something awful."

"Why's it so strong? I didn't think she was that good at magic." Colin questioned.

"She's not…really." Draco twiddled with his thumbs, "She does know how to summon darker magic's, though. It's like burning through dark magic; it leaves an awful smell, especially when it's powerful. Like burning out logs on a campfire. Good magic usually leaves nice smells." He added, already anticipating Colin's question. Colin looked at the darkening sky.

"What…what now?" He asked, but he already was guessing (and dreading) Draco's answer.

Draco snatched up a knife from the ground, turning to Colin, "I'm going to find her." He said.

"I thought you weren't killing anyone." Colin jumped in front of him. He had actually come to understand Draco in an odd way, and whenever he talked about Pansy, his whole self seemed to disappear under his anger towards her. He'd hate to see him lose what he truly loved by choosing to kill someone. Daphne's death was understandable, at least to him.

"Protection, Creevey." Draco looked surprised that Colin would even jump to that conclusion, "Magic isn't the only thing she's decent at. Do you not recall the knives exercise? Besides, if it comes down to it, you'll kill her."

Draco pushed past Colin, as though he hadn't just said something totally unexpected, and Colin was momentarily stunned.

"Why?" Colin's strangled question was more fearful than he'd wished it were.

"Lavender. Don't you want to get back?"

"Pike killed her." Colin sighed, shaking his head.

"Under Pansy's orders. She's a disease, Colin. The sooner we stop her, the sooner we can survive. Even if there's two of us left, of each blood type, she'll never stop." Draco said, shoving the machete into Colin's hands.

Draco walked out of the protective circle, and Colin hovered behind.

"Can't we talk about this?" He called, jumping from the boundary line, immediately regretting it as his body began to shake.

"What is there to talk about? You either stay behind like a coward, or you come with me." Draco demanded. Then he parted the vines and vanished into the forest.

Colin was indecisive for much longer than he should have been. He even turned back a bit and tried to re-enter the circle (cough, to get more supplies, of course) but found it blocked. Draco wasn't even giving him a choice. Damn him.

Colin threw the machete into the ground in anger, before swiping it back up and quietly trailing Malfoy.

"Good, you made it." Draco commented when he found the blond boy sitting under a tree.

"You blocked the cave." Colin glared at him. Draco made a small tutting noise.

"You disappoint me, Creevey."

They crept through the undergrowth for a bit, until they stumbled across a clearing. Before Colin could say anything, Draco had shot out a bush, and had grabbed a figure by the neck. Pike.

"Draco!" Colin hissed, wondering what in the world had gotten into him. Corner was also lying around, although neither looked particularly with it. Pike would have put up much more of a fight, on any occasion, expect for the fact he seemed oddly…sleepy? Colin jumped in, keeping a careful eye on Corner, and Draco grabbed the knife from Colin's fingers. Before Pike could shake the sleep away, and something about this sleep just felt…off, Draco had savagely backed him up into a tree, the knife at his neck.

"Where's Pansy." Draco demanded, his lips curling back into a snarl.

"I don't know! When we went to sleep, she was with us, I swear!" Pike was looking frantically around the circle, and seemed overwhelmed and very out of it. Colin believed his story, even though Draco scoffed in his face.

"Like that's true. Where is she, Webber?" He said, pressing the knife harder against his neck. Colin was sure that Draco would have enough restraint to keep from killing Pike, so he didn't worry. It was a scare mechanism if anything.

In the meantime, Colin approached Corner. He poked the boy, and Corner didn't even move.

"What's wrong with him?" Colin asked, pointing to Corner, gathering Pike's rapidly switching attention.

"I…I don't know. I'm just…so tired. What day is it?" Pike asked, blubbering. So he wasn't as confident as he seemed, of course, Colin realized. Still it angered him, knowing this was the man who brutally tortured Lavender. Sadism like that wasn't a one-time thing.

"Oh, real funny." Draco rolled his eyes, "I'm going to ask again- where is Pansy?"

Colin had wandered over to a place where he felt the familiar putrid smell that he'd felt earlier. If he were as engrossed in Pike as Draco was, he likely would have missed it. He didn't want to go over there, but he could see something etched hastily in the ground.

He read it once, then again. He read it a third time, as though those letters on the ground were hieroglyphs instead of English. It wasn't until the fourth time he comprehended it. He cussed in his head.

"Draco!" He said, and the usage of the Slytherin's first name caused Draco to look over sharply at him.

"What?" He demanded, making meaningful eye contact at Pike. Colin coughed, motioning to the ground. Draco muttered angrily as he forced Pike in front of him, patting him down and taking four knives off him at least before shoving him over there. He pushed Pike onto his knees in front of the writing, a foot in the valley of his back.

"Gone to kill some mudbloods. I won't be long. Pansy." Draco read-out loud, and by the end, his voice had reached a panicked sound. He whipped out a sheet he had in his pocket.

"The only muggle borns left are well, you Pike, and your sorry ass is still alive. You Colin, but she wasn't going toward our safe haven, even if she did know. That does leave…" He swallowed hard, "Elizabeth and Hermione."

Colin had come to the same conclusion, and gave Draco a look that held a million questions. Before Draco could do anything, below them, Pike gave a rough laugh.

"About time. That Gryffindor bitch will have it coming. She killed Blaise, you know?" He asked wickedly, straining as he twisted his neck up to look at Draco, "Doesn't that piss you off? Weren't you two like brothers?" He goaded.

Draco didn't answer, but Colin could see the anger rising steadily in his eyes at the comment. Things about the whole Blaise and Hermione situation were still not okay. Colin pushed Pike's head back down angrily for Draco, back bristled.

"Shut it, Pike, or else it will be the last thing you say." He threatened. Pike didn't seem convinced on Colin's threat, but only chuckled under his breath.

Draco was searching the ground, and Colin followed his gaze. They say the inch-deep footprints in the mud at the same time, and had two drastically different reactions. Draco dropped Pike and ran off, and Colin jumped to grab Pike again.

"What am I supposed to do with them?" Colin yelled after his rapidly vanishing figure.

"Figure it the hell out and find me after!" Draco called back. Colin rubbed a hand over his face. Sure, he wanted to find Hermione. Sure, he understood the necessity of timing that Pansy was now after Hermione, and he had a feeling she knew something about where she was that they didn't, or else she wouldn't have taken off like that. But Draco was acting erratically, and if he didn't have Colin to clean up after him, he might find his head sliced off.

He worried about Draco barging in to Pansy, guns blazing but no ammo.

Colin knocked Pike out with the butt of the machete. He grabbed some vines off the trees, using a strengthen spell Draco had taught him, and pushed them both sitting against a larger tree. He tied it securely around their slumped forms, and bit his lip. It wouldn't hold forever, but it would at least keep them off their trail for a little bit of time. Draco and Colin could possibly take Pansy alone. If Pansy got her backup? Things could get really, really bad.

Colin took one last look at the boys tied up and turned to run after Draco.

He just hoped they found Hermione before Pansy did.

THEGREENGAMES

There was a tinkling noise and Hermione looked up.

She didn't want to admit it, but yes...Hermione might have been sulking in the shadows. She knew she was useless with this leg, and she knew that Seamus would be much faster on his own...but that didn't stop her from wishing she could be out there too.

It wasn't even as though the cave was bad. It wasn't well lit, but it wasn't as though Hermione was doing much that needed light anyway. It wasn't cold or too warm, so she never felt the awful temperatures the game makers forced upon the arena. The ground wasn't even all that gritty and she had yet to see anything other than a couple bugs skittering around.

It didn't quite matter though, for Hermione abhorred sitting with nothing to do.

She got up, and saw a package caught halfway down on the crawl area she had made with Seamus. She dragged herself over, for even if this package wasn't for her, she was likely going to open it. Perhaps it had water, or food!

But when she saw the Weasley's Wheeze's label pasted on the side of the jar, she let a wide grin split across her face. Fred had pulled through. And it was just like him, sending it directly to her. He was the sort of person that wouldn't risk anything.

There was just one word on the back instructions that Hermione could make out in the dimness of where her sleeping bags were.

'Slather'.

She sat back, and scooped up a couple finger-full of the goop, and with her free hand, lifted her pants to her knees. She didn't know how it worked, and she would have full time to ask later, but she genuinely trusted Fred that what she was about to do was safe and would help her.

But Merlin, did it burn.

She bit her lip and continued to rub it into her skin, over the sore areas and the bumpy exterior of her skin where the bones jut out unnaturally. Almost immediately, the pain lessened, melting away to a throbbing feeling someone got after an invigorating run. She lay back, panting as she let the medicine work.

The burning lasted longer than she could count. She didn't try to move, nor check it, just followed the cracks in the ceiling of the cave with her eyes until the numbing stopped.

When she looked up, she could tell quite easily that the swelling had stopped and shrunk, and the color of the bruises was already turning into the yellowing tones of an old bruise. She went to put the container back into the tin it came in, thinking it would best be stored there, when her fingers brushed against a note. She put the tin into her jacket pocket as her interested was piqued.

In her excitement of receiving medicine, Hermione had overlooked it. She tried to see the tiny scrawls, but her eyes couldn't adjust that much.

There was likely enough light by the crawl-hole, she figured, and so thus it came to the moment of truth; she stood hesitantly.

Her leg still hurt, although not like before. Not like a broken hurt, but more as though a rough and sore muscle hurt. It was obviously there, and her legs nearly buckled with the first step, but as far as she could tell, the worst of it was gone.

She would have to do something really nice for Fred if she won this. He might have just saved her life.

She walked over to the light, and such a relief flowed through her that it nearly made her giddy. Who would have thought just a few short hours without being able to walk would make her so glad to have it back?

She held the light into the light, grinning, because she could have recognized Fred's handwriting in an instant. Well, it looked mostly like his brother's handwriting, but there was a way Fred looped his letters and flourished the lines that was so different and more dignified than Ron's chicken scrawl.

More so, it wasn't as though she recognized Fred's handwriting itself, but she saw the form of it. She'd read over enough of Ron's papers at Hogwarts to be able to nearly copy his hand to a t, as she'd started doing after awhile for she didn't trust Ron to fix mistakes himself. She doubted the teachers ever knew.

She could see, farther than that, Molly's handwriting in both of theirs. It made sense, for she taught all her children to read and write at home instead of in school, as Hermione- a muggle- was taught. It was odd to imagine that all her children's hands had turned to be so similar yet so different. Each reflected their personalities. Hermione recalled seeing Percy's handwriting third year, and had found it stuffy and straight up in a more annoying way than her own. He couldn't have been that stuffed up, she reckoned, for he had died in the first games.

She swallowed, bringing the paper down before she read it. How was it that she was able to have these thoughts so...so casually? It really hadn't been that long since George or Fred's death. Hardly anytime to mourn.

She brought the paper back up, shaking those thoughts from her head. She could sit and be sad about the first games all she wanted, but it wouldn't help her now in the games she was currently in. Furthermore, if she thought about the first games to hard, she'd think of Harry, and that would be the end of her rationality for quite awhile.

The letter was written hastily, but the fact he'd taken the time to write a note to her at all was more comforting than anything else. It was easy to forget he was still alive, somewhere out there, fighting for her and Ron to come home all the time.

"Hermione," She began to read out loud, her voice echoing around the empty cavern, only slightly masked by the rushing of the waves below her, "I hope this helps. Something I made on the fly, after Seamus so vividly described your leg. Yuck. Anyway, I really hope you get this, since you're pretty much off-grid. We're guessing your location as it is. Don't die. Really, don't. If you need anything else at all, just ask. Yours, Fred."

She smiled, letting the words sink in for a moment. She had read it in his voice. Such a Fred-like voice. The most Fred-like was his 'Don't die' part. As if that had ever been a question of anything, she chuckled.

She brought the note to the light again. She hoped Seamus would return soon. She was really hungry now, after her body had gone through the process of speed-healing her leg. And so thirsty. She swallowed, finding her own saliva more of a relief than she ever had before.

There were voices above her.

At first, she shrank back into the shadows, ready to hid or fight if someone was coming down, but realized they were going in passing. Creeping forward, she listened, holding her breath to try to decipher the words.

"Why is this way the way to go?"

"Well, you're not leading, are you? I suppose we're aimlessly wandering."

Hermione's eyes widened in joy- those voices were Ron and Elizabeth, but they were already vanishing as they walked right above her. Elizabeth was alive! It was the first of anything concrete she'd had since Ernie's death, and Hermione wasn't going to let this chance go. Besides, Ron was there too, and Luna likely too. She could bring them down, have them reconnect with Seamus. She could make an unstoppable team again.

She got down, and used a thick stick to write in the muddy, gritty ground.

"Found Elizabeth. Tracking her down. I'll be back, I promise." She hummed to herself as she wrote, and then spun around.

The crawl out to the surface seemed so much bigger now that she thought about doing it herself. Daunting even. Her leg still hurt, but if anything happened to any of them, and Hermione didn't find them, she'd never forgive herself. Seamus had to understand.

She grabbed the first rock, haling herself upwards and onto the stones. Then another shove. And another. To her, it had seemed more diagonally going, but now that she was making the crawl herself, it seemed as though it was vertically up.

She cut her hand, it stung. She shook it and resisted the urge to lick it, and put it back on the rocks to steady her with a hiss of pain. Now her leg and her hands hurt. She would need to clean that as soon as possible, to prevent infection.

Halfway through, she feared they'd be long-gone by the time she made it up. This did not deter her, or make her consider going back to the safety of the cavern, but instead crawl and scramble faster.

The air up here was clean.

She didn't even pause to catch her breath as she went in the direction she'd heard their voices. There wasn't a moment to lose, not if she didn't want to lose Elizabeth all over again.

She didn't even consider that there might be dangers lurking about.

THEGREENGAMES

Seamus arrived back to the cave a little before nightfall. He'd gotten a lot of food and as much water as he could carry. He wasn't sure if Fred would get the medicine to Hermione, or if it would even work. He didn't know how long they'd have to stay down there- at least a day, to avoid Pansy- and he wanted Hermione to be well satisfied and comfortable.

He slid back down, and his eyes blinked in the darkness. He wasn't adjusted, but he had his voice.

"Hermione?"

Silence.

Fear crept along his stomach, as he wanted anxiously for his eyes to adjust, calling her name again, but there was nothing but the rushing of the river. He stumbled over to their sleeping bags and things. She wasn't there, but it was all as he'd left it. Hermione would never be so careless to leave without any provisions, would she? This made him really worry.

"Hermione!" He yelled, for who as going to hear him all the way down here, "Hermione, this isn't funny, luv! Please, tell me you're oka-," There was something scrawled in the ground. He expected the worst. He expected a taunt from Pansy, a cruelly written note about Hermione's incoming demise.

Instead, it was her own writing.

He read it, and cussed.

This is what you get when you fall in love with a Gryffindor.

She wasn't in her right mind, not when Hermione was set on a task. Everything else was second-tier to her, and she usually shut it all out. He'd seen it during tests; a fire could go off, and Hermione would sit and continue to take her exam, only looking up if her quill caught to flame, theoretically. She would be less perceptive than usual. And if the medicine had worked at all, he wondered if she was in at pain. Pain also numbed the senses.

Worse, she had no idea Pansy was stalking her.

He had to find her!

Turning around, he lunged up the rock entrance, forcing himself up in record time. Yet by the time he found his way up, it was dark out.

It was dangerous.

He saw fresh footprints in the mud, which he'd seen coming in, but never would have guessed they were Hermione's.

Anyone but Hermione's.

He followed the tracks like a bloodhound, but they were uneven and scattered, because Hermione was running. They curved over fallen trees, around streams, and through bushes. Little tree branches slapped his face, nicking his skin in tiny slivers of red. Debris got caught in his hair, and he blinked away leaves from his vision, shoving them down from his face. Thorns caught on his clothes as he passed, pricking his legs and making him wince, but he continued on.

In a perfect world, he would fine Hermione with Elizabeth and they'd go back down to the cavern and wait it all out. In a slightly imperfect word, he'd find Hermione or just Elizabeth and neither would let him take them to safety without the other, if Elizabeth knew Hermione was looking for her, and the would be safer in pairs with his knowledge than alone. In a less than perfect world?

"Yeh can't thin' like that." He told himself angrily. Truth be told, with Hermione dead, he wasn't sure what any point of the games would be. He chalked up his survival for so long as not only Gryffindor stubbornness, but also the sheer power of will to see Hermione just at least once more.

Did he ever imagine that everything that had happened between them would have, ever? Well, perhaps in some of his more...ahem...salacious dreams, but those were merely dreams.

He caught sight of Hermione up ahead, and she seemed untouched, still alive- well there had been no cannons, but by some luck of Godric she wasn't hurt either. The sigh of relief he let out was loud, and much needed. He felt a bubble of laughter rise inside of him. Luck had been on his side so far, hadn't it?

But not so, because there, just a couple feet above where Hermione was, lurked Pansy. And she'd seen Hermione.

Watching Pansy was like watching a panther stalking. She was calculated and silent, with death in her eyes. She wasn't going to make a scene, and she'd pounce, and if Hermione weren't paying attention, it would all too quickly be over.

It didn't even seem as though she had a weapon, although he wasn't putting it past her to pull a knife from her boot or something.

He just knew he had to save Hermione.

Calling to Hermione would do no good. Pansy would attack, and Hermione's reflexes weren't that good. He was too far away to join in a fight with her, because between the two of them they maybe had a chance, but he could get to Pansy first.

Seamus didn't know what he was going to do as he ducked through the trees; he just knew he was terrified. Wet-yer-pants type of terrified. Pansy was no small threat.

He didn't have a weapon either, except- oh, oh yes! His fire!

It was strong, which was odd, because he was shaking all the way down to his feet. Usually when he was scared, he could only produce a measly flicker. But perhaps it was the thought of keeping Hermione safe that let his fire do so; the power of love was stronger than the power of fear.

He was right behind Pansy, about to, well he wasn't sure- maybe grab her or set her hair on fire, when she spun around, nostrils flaring.

Shit...he was downwind.

"Seamus?" She whispered, grinning, momentarily forgetting about Hermione. Yes, that's what he needed, what he wanted. He danced back as she grabbed at him, but found himself against a tree. He dove under Pansy as she leaped at him, and felt his foot catch on some branches.

"Hermione!"

Hermione looked up, terrified, "Run!" He said again, but she stayed frozen in place, stumbling forward of all the stupid things to do.

He felt Pansy's tiny hands around his neck, so much stronger than he ever thought they could be. But there was something else to her grasp, something much darker and sinister that made his eyes roll back in pure revulsion of the feeling running through his veins. As her grip tightened, the world slowed.

His third birthday, the first day he remembered. His older brothers laughing and his mother in fits at the charred cake with his chubby handprints seared into the now crisp frosting.

His Hogwarts letter, just as his brothers-already graduated-before him had told him. He'd almost begun to think it was never going to come.

Meeting Hermione for the first time, and Merlin, she was still just as beautiful.

The Yule Ball where Hermione stopped everyone on that dance floor, even Malfoy, and he realized he'd never be with her, but damn, he was going to take a chance if he ever got it.

The games sped up, until the night in the cave. The feeling of her fingers linked in his own, her flushed cheeks and glimmering eyes, his feeling of euphoria because this is what heaven felt like, he was sure of it.

His eyes met Hermione's, who was still stagnate in the spot she'd risen from.

He gave a warm last smile; there was no way else he'd rather go, ken.

"I love-,"

His neck snapped. The world went black.

THEGREENGAMES

Hermione hadn't found them. The world was dark. Everything was not going right, and she kicked a rock over a precipice hard. It clattered to the bottom.

It was useless, wasn't it? She had been so preoccupied with finding Elizabeth, she hadn't been paying any attention to where she had come from, and now the forest looked unfamiliar. She wasn't sure she could have found her way back at all, at this point. And Seamus was probably worried sick, and he had a right to be.

She was so angry with herself it made her want to cry.

Hadn't she been here before? Preoccupied? Caught up in the happiness of a moment that she'd forgotten the dangers of the area. That up in the real world, everything was dark and deadly and nothing was good? It was how she'd lost Elizabeth the first time.

Maybe she should try to find her way back. But maybe Seamus was already looking for her. She'd been gone about an hour, plenty of time for Seamus to return and be frantic. She'd expected to catch up with them in about fifteen minutes, but their voices were nowhere and neither were any signs they'd wandered through. She did wonder if maybe, she'd been so eager for something, she'd imagined it.

The hairs rose on the back of her neck, and her heart skipped a beat. Something was telling her something, but what, she couldn't-

"Hermione!"

Seamus' scream was like nothing she'd ever heard; anguished, afraid, desperate, and pleading. She jumped around, eyes wide, and saw Seamus on the ground, Pansy above him. She couldn't think; nay she couldn't breathe.

"Run!"

The words penetrated somewhere in her mind, but they lost themselves quickly in the bedlam of what she was seeing. How had she not noticed at all?

Pansy's fingers tightened around his neck. The shadows around them laughed and the cold feeling breezed through the area. Dark Magic, Hermione was sure of it.

She saw Seamus register her fingers, and she knew even if she moved, nothing she could do could save him.

He smiled. How could he be smiling? His lips moved, but she couldn't make out the words and then-

-And then Hermione screamed as his neck snapped too far to the left, and the cannon went off.

The darkened spirits in the shadows remained, and Hermione shook. Seamus had died. Seamus was dead. He was killed. He was murdered. She said the sentence in every variation she could think of, but nothing at all seemed real.

Pansy looked between them; Seamus' glassy eyes and the black spots on his neck where the dark magic had flowed from her fingers and onto his skin, and Hermione' face.

"You two? Merlin let me barf." She barked, shuddering dramatically, "Well, don't worry. You'll see him soon enough, you know."

Hermione stumbled back.

She had no weapons. She couldn't run. But she had to try to fight. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew Seamus had stopped Pansy from killing her before she got the chance. Now she had it.

She wasn't going to waste it.

As soon as the thought hit her, such anger pummeled through her. Not like the anger when Ernie was stabbed, or the faux-anger when she ate the berries. This was more intense than either of those times, and it was all real. Every evil thought of the way she could kill Pansy were entirely her own, and she let them come. She let them come because otherwise she'd lose that anger and be useless.

She took the first hit. She hit Pansy, in fact, dead on the face. Her fingers made a cracking sound as they connected with Pansy's cheekbone, and it smarted as she fisted her hands again.

"You bitch."

Pansy seemed momentarily shocked, rubbing her cheekbone and staring wide-eyed at Hermione. Then, her surprise dissolved, and she chuckled.

"I like playing with my food. They don't usually fight back, though." Pansy informed her, and kicked forward. Pansy's foot connected with her gut, and with an 'oomph' Hermione stumbled back. The wind shot out of her mouth, and she was catching her breath when Pansy kicked her again.

She rolled away, but not fast enough, because Pansy stomped down on her hand hard. There was a crunching sound as her bones in her fingers broke, and she screamed. She was loosing. The anger was keeping her alive, but for how much longer? Soon, would the pain not eclipse her anger? And her hand, it was her hand she did wandless magic with. It was rendered useless now, a bloody sinewy mess of red.

But then, she thought of Seamus' face, his lips as he mouthed something to her, and in her mind, she saw it.

I love you.

She kicked Pansy out from above her, and the girl landed on her stomach on the ground. Hermione took the chance to jump on top of her, and they tussled on the ground, clawing and biting and pulling hair like catty girls, but with much more venom and intention to harm. Hermione managed to pin Pansy down and hit her over and over again. She'd never thought she had it in her, to wail on someone like those boys did in movies where the person under them bleed and bleed, but now...she couldn't stop herself. She didn't want to stop herself.

Pansy wasn't a pimply-teenage boy though, and managed to get back on top. She grabbed Hermione's neck and no-Hermione refused to go this way too. Her vision spun as Pansy's fingers dug into her neck and cut off her air, and something glimmered in the grass.

She must be hallucinating now; it was too perfect.

It was the dagger promised for her, her name on the hilt in perfect letters, half-buried on the ground.

What were the chances?

But...it was the only chance she had.

Her fingers flayed out, and she connected with metal. Holy Hufflepuff, it was real!

She grabbed it and swung it aimlessly. It connected with Pansy's arm, and it was apparently deep and strong enough for Pansy to look her grip on her. She cried, and Hermione took the chance to duck away. As her sense returned, she realized the best move would have been to stab Pansy somewhere in the chest where some real damage could be done, but at least she was still alive.

Hermione rubbed her neck, and lashed out. She stayed low, and managed to knick the back of Pansy's Achilles' heel with a driving strike. Pansy stumbled, yowling in pain as blood poured from the back of her foot, and Hermione took the opportunity to stab Pansy in the chest.

Pansy looked at the dagger in her chest, and Hermione stumbled back an inch. But then, Pansy grinned, and took the dagger out. Hermione was too foggy to know if she'd hit anywhere it hurt. Maybe she'd bleed out. But Pansy wasn't going to meekly run away; even if she was going down, she was taking some people with her.

Hermione stumbled back, but Pansy grabbed her arm. She took the dagger, and dug it deep into Hermione's side, twisting it as she went.

Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out at all. It was just empty air. She fell back, and her foot went off the precipice. She couldn't stop herself as she tumbled all the way to the bottom.

She looked up dizzily at Pansy, who was holding a hand firmly over her own wound and looking a little off-balance, and spat down at her.

"Say hello to Finnegan in hell, Granger." Pansy hissed. She was either too wounded too finish or assumed the trip down the ravine would be useless, for Hermione would be dead soon anyway. Hermione had a feeling it was a combination of the two. She watched as Pansy limped the other direction, leaving a bleeding trail behind her. The dark magic and the shadows re-treated with her.

It took Hermione a second, but when she did, tears sprung to her eyes.

She was going to die.

It was certain now, wasn't it? She was already so tired, and she wanted just to sleep. She forced her eyes open. She felt as though she should move, but when she tried, she realized she had no control over her limbs anymore. It's as though someone just snipped the connection away.

It was okay, though, where would she go anyway?

Maybe death wasn't so bad?

Seamus would be there, after all. And Harry. And Ernie. And Hannah. They'd all be waiting for her, if she were lucky.

Her hands were slumped at her side. She looked down, and just saw the 'Her' sticking out from her body. How ironic; killed by her own knife. They'd talk about this one for ages after. It would become a joke in years to come, to be 'Hermione'd' or for something to backfire. She could see it now.

Her eyelids fluttered. Everything hurt.

The deep night, however, did not.

THEGREENGAMES

Draco found the bloody trail after it happened.

"Shit." Colin whistled, looking at the ground, "What happened-oh."

"What?" Draco demanded, and Colin swallowed thickly. He was staring at an unmoving lump. Fear clung to Draco's skin. Was it Hermione?

It was just Seamus.

But at the same time, it wasn't just Seamus. Seamus as was in love with Hermione, was he not? And he'd been Colin's mate, and Colin was-

"It's okay." Draco muttered, seeing the younger boy straining not to cry, "You two were friends, yeah?"

Colin nodded mutely, but he let some salty tears trickle from his eyes as he sniffled.

Draco turned back, trying to get some clues about what possibly could have occurred.

"Either they're both banged up or one is on their deathbed. Maybe both." Draco said, examining the amount of blood on the ground.

Colin forced himself away from Seamus, moving toward Draco.

"The blood falls of the cliff, but I can't see down." He noticed, his voice small. Draco hadn't seen that.

"Good catch, Creevey." He said. Usually, Draco wasn't one to doll out compliments often, but hell, he'd just found his friend's dead body. Draco could be an okay guy when the time called for it, "I'm going down. You want a moment?" He asked. Colin thought about it, and nodded.

Draco nodded, showing Colin the path he found down the ravine, and made the tricky travel down it. It was a painstakingly long business; go too fast and he might risk a mudslide or to stumble all the way down. There seemed to be some thorny things along the way, something he'd rather not get all in his clothes. So far, most of his clothes were still impeccable.

They stunk thought, what he wouldn't give for a shower. Living like this was so uncivilized.

He found himself around the side of the cliff. There was a stumbling of rocks above him, and he saw Colin working his way down.

"I'm looking around!" Draco called up.

"Wait for me, I'm almost done." Colin had found his voice. Draco shrugged.

"Nah."

To his left, he heard a soft crying sound, a whimpering. Putting everything on alert, he crept forward, until he realized what he was looking at.

"Hermione..."

She didn't even register him at first. Her whole face was bruised, her lip split open. Her leg was bent at an awkward angle, and one of her hands was almost unrecognizable as a hand. Worst, there was a blade right through her.

She would be dead soon.

Yet, as awful and terrifying as this thought was, after he'd waited all this time to find her, his feet wouldn't move. He thought of Blaise, and the really terrible thought of merely turning the other way and taking Colin far away entered his mind as quickly as he banished it.

He still had thought about it, though, hadn't he?

He came forward, crouching beside her.

"Hermione." He said evenly, trying to betray nothing too much in his tone.

Her eyes blinked open and focused.

"Malfoy..." Her voice was rough and dry, and her eyes narrowed, "Come to gloat? Come to kill me?" She questioned.

"What?" Draco jumped back a bit, "Why would I...?"

"I can't even protect myself." Hermione turned her head to her hand, "No wandless magic left. No weapons either. Nothing." She sounded defeated, "Just...make it quick, please? I'm in agony." She whimpered.

"Why would I kill you?" Draco whispered, pained, staring at her. He'd never seen Hermione Granger broken. But before him now, she was, and it was the worst thing he'd ever seen.

"We talked about this. Before the games, on the balcony." Hermione said softly, "Why would I expect you to change?" She asked with a humorless laugh.

"I'm not...I don't..." Draco floundered for words.

"Draco..." Her voice was soft, and hearing his name on her lips...it was so melancholy, "Please."

Then her body slumped forward again. He frantically checked her pulse, realizing she wasn't dead, but likely had succumbed to the pain again, and fallen unconscious. He was holding her limp body when Colin entered.

"Maybe I should have gone first..." Colin said hesitantly, and Draco swung around.

"Grab her!" He demanded sharply.

"But you heard her. She's in agony. She's dying..."

"No." Draco shook his head firmly, "No. I just found her. Not now. I'm going to fucking save her." He insisted.

"Is there anything you can do?" Colin said, but he still moved forward.

"Of course! And did I say take you sweet time, Creevey, or did I say to freaking grab her?" He said, taking her front half, "She doesn't have a choice about it. I'm going to pull her through this."

THEGREENGAMES

The world spun. Hermione heard blimps and little bits of time. She remembered Draco coming into the clearing. He looked at her with such anger, such disgust. She'd originally wondered when he found her if maybe he'd be like the person she'd gotten to know on the balcony, in those mornings.

But when she saw the look of distain in his eyes, she knew it was all gone.

She could only hope for a swift death from him, but it didn't come.

What a bastard.

She felt herself being picked up. She heard Colin's voice, and thought she must be hallucinating now. What was Colin doing here?

She saw the trees above her as she was lifted. She saw every star glimmering, and they stayed on the backs of her eyelids as she fell unconscious to the most intense pain she'd ever felt.

She heard yelling after she was set down-demands being made, stinging things being put on her wounds, people prodding her and checking her. She awoke to find herself in a cave, and she wondered if she had willed herself back in her safe cave, but this one was all wrong. Even her mind was messed up now.

She felt someone touching the hilt of the dagger, because it moved slightly inside of her, and she cried out before falling under again. She came to when someone was wiping blood away.

She felt someone tugging on the dagger, and that's when she really went under.

Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she was no longer in the Green Games.

There were soft pink pillows underneath her head, and a cool comforter with cherry blossoms on top of her. There was her stuffed animal from when she was eight, a worn puppy, sitting in the corner. In front of her were her dresser, and the only unorganized thing in her room, her bookshelf. It went to the top of the ceiling, and books were smashed wherever they fit, lines of two, and on top of each other.

She turned her head to the right and saw the window and the warm summer sky out of the blinds, the pink curtains billowing with a slight breeze. She turned to the left and saw her desk, and her hamper. She could see the lime green paint on her walls, a stupid choice of a six-year old that now would rather paint her walls white, but when going to Hogwarts and only home at summers, what was really the point?

She was in her room at home. She could smell her mother's lasagna downstairs, and her father pacing around the halls as he thought about his work. She could hear the radio on, George Winston's summer album trailing through the house. She could hear the children outside, and the neighbor's yappy dog barking up a storm.

There was a buzzing in her mind that grew louder and louder with each second, until it was painful, and Hermione closed her eyes hard.

When she opened them again, she was not in the not-cave in the Games, not in her bedroom, nor anywhere else she knew.

No, Hermione Granger was somewhere else entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now do you see why :(
> 
> I legit cried. Like...urg. Why must my writer powers force me to do such evil!
> 
> But Dramione reunion! It's what like every single one of you has been asking for :)
> 
> So please, if you are so happy that Draco and Hermione are finally together (at least, physically...not relationship wise...yet) please drop a review ;) It would mean the world to me. Or, if you have a guess on where Hermione is, drop that too!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy October! And the start of a new season...midterm season -.- This week and next week are filled with midterms both on the syllabus and sprung at me with no warning, ergo my late update. Urg. Then I'll have a small break, and then it will begin all over again for second midterms before finals. They should really call it triterms, since it happens three times? Just a random thought...
> 
> This chapter doesn't really go with the main part of the story, but it's just as vitally important. It's hard to explain. You'll see when you read it what I mean.

Everything was white.

Hermione took a couple of steps, but found nothing changed...it was one flat plane of just nothingness.

It was terrifying.

There was a gentle murmur, almost a whisper behind her, and she turned. Translucent squares of moving pictures, most too blurry to make out words or people, hung suspended on the whiteness. She reached up to touch one, but found it infinitely farther away than she could touch.

Her brow creased, and her lips turned downward in confusion. It was all things she'd experienced. She could see things here that only herself knew; such as how she really hurt her knee when she was eight, or the first quick kiss with her first crush at nine.

The longer she stared, the louder and clear they became until everything was shouting over each other, and the sound was deafening.

Hermione clasp her hands over her head, gritting her teeth, and shaking her head. "Shut up!" She hissed in frustration, and simply like that, it quieted.

She cautiously took her hands down.

Memories, weren't they?

She focused hard on clearing her mind, and they all vanished.

All, except one, and try as she might...it did not budge.

She wasn't thinking much of anything, and when she did- like of Elizabeth or Ron, a blimp of them flashed on the whiteness, but she was able to dissolve it away with simplicity. But this one? This remained constant, a dull color, but sharp.

It was her subconscious, she reckoned, thinking furiously without her even knowing it.

It was from her point of view, and it was looking at Draco. She padded over to it, until she was directly under it, and the voices became clear and audible.

"If you kill me…make it painless?" She heard herself ask, and she winced in this form.

"Huh? Why would I kill you?" Draco looked so confused, and almost startled, something Hermione didn't pick up on until seeing it over again now. In that moment, which seemed so long ago, she hadn't noticed much at all. She'd been too anxious, too tired, to angry to see much else.

"Because we are enemies. And we don't have time for second thoughts about that anymore."

She saw his whole body stiffen, and he took a breath in swiftly. His eyes hardened, "I guess so. Despite the fact you may win, you'll still me a mudblood."

The word faded out, ringing in her ears.

It didn't matter how faux those words seemed, it still stung her.

She saw it re-loop back, start again. Her brain must really be considering this hard.

She realized why, after watching it a couple more times.

She felt betrayed by him.

Everything had hurt. Even thinking of the pain she'd felt moments- or was it hours?- ago lighted every nerve ending through her body with the same static shocks. And he'd just stared distastefully at her.

And going through this again, he hadn't even seemed to believe any of what he said. Not the slur, not the promise, nothing but the kindness seemed real. So what had changed? What had made her so disgusting to him in her eyes? What had caused him to let her suffer to the point where she was now hallucinating this?

She shook her head, and the imagine vanished.

Her brain had worked itself out.

She looked up again, curious, and saw Seamus' last moments flash across her. It was sick, putting this up there, but she had to watch it. His neck cracking, and his eyes just flickering out. It replayed over and over again.

She did this. This was her fault. And now...now Seamus was gone forever.

She wiped the back of her hand under her eyes, catching the loose tears that were dripping from her lashes. She sniffled, shaking her head. She should cry. She should be mourning. What else did she have to do here?

There was a set of footsteps behind her, and she turned. Her whole face broke into a wide grin, and her feet recognized the person before her mind did.

In reality, it wasn't even until she'd crossed the white expanse and threw her arms around the person, inhaling their oh-so-familiar scent that she let out a chocked sob.

"Harry." She weeped, digging her nose into his neck. She felt his arms reach behind her and hold her tighter, and for the longest time, they merely stood there, swaying slightly, but never speaking.

When Hermione pulled back, she felt tears spring to her eyes for a thousand different reasons. The most striking, though, left her soundless for a fraction of a moment. "This means I'm dead, doesn't it?" Her voice broke half-way through, and she tried to wrap her head around it.

So Draco had killed her. Or she'd died from getting stabbed and thrown off a cliff. Either way...here she was?

Harry didn't answer immediately, and Hermione's mind went to a thousand other things, trying to distract her. She looked him up and down; he was nothing like he looked like all those years ago. He wasn't a gangly newly-minted-teen anymore. He was a man now, but his hair was still messy, his glasses still sat awkwardly on his nose, and his smile was still stretched between his ears.

"You're not dead." Harry said, and Hermione let out a sigh. She couldn't tell if it was one of relief or one of something else, "Well, erm...it's complicated."

She, despite the circumstance, let out a snort. Harry was as eloquent as ever.

"I don't...understand." She said once she began to try to reason with what he'd said.

"It's poetic justice, I think." Harry started, shoving his hands into his pockets, "You chose to go into these games, like I knew you would eventually, so you get to chose when to leave them now."

"You knew I'd go to the games?" Hermione gave him a look.

"Out of everything, you focus on that?" He chuckled, but his face darkened, "It's...who you are Hermione. I guess I almost hoped since it was your last year, but..." He pressed his lips together.

Hermione scrutinized him.

"How long have you been here?" She asked, "Where is here?"

"I don't quite know where it is. But I've been here since I died. I guess it makes sense. I started it all, so now I can apologize to everyone that dies. I'm dead, and people are still dying because of me." He shook his head angrily.

"Harry James Potter, look at me." Hermione grabbed his hands, "You did not start this. Voldemort did." She said fiercely.

"But-,"

"Merlin, you haven't changed a bit." She said, then contemplated his words, "So you've seen everyone that's come through? Seen them to the better place?" She asked quietly.

"I've seen Seamus, yes, if that's what you're asking. All of them, except some Slytherins each year. I hear Daphne and Blaise are dead, but..." Harry shook his head.

Hermione didn't want to tell Harry she'd killed Blaise. She couldn't imagine his disappointed response if she did. Besides, her mind was spinning.

"It's my fault Seamus is dead. He would never have put himself in danger if I was smarter." Hermione hugged her arms, a chill overtaking her, "I'm awful." She said, "Maybe it's better I'm dead."

"Half-dead." Harry corrected, drawing her back to the original question.

"How can one be half-dead and see you, the bringer to the afterlife?" She questioned, "For lack of better explanation." She added, seeing Harry's frown.

"Down in the games, someone is really trying to save your life, Mione. But they can only take it so far. You have to want to live, fight." He said.

"Well, of course I want to live." Hermione said, chuckling, "Who wouldn't?"

Harry gave her a lopsided smile, one that she always got when he saw right through her or Ron. "You'd be down there if you were being truthful, you know?" He said. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she did know. She hung her head.

"I don't know if I want to chose again." Hermione admitted, "I sealed my fate when I let Artemis live, so I thought. It's...too much to chose again."

'I can't make that choice for you." Harry said, wiser above what she remembered, "And it's not going to stay forever. Eventually, your body down there just won't be able to sustain itself. But...you have some time." He assured, and went in for another hug, "I prayed I would never have to see this day. If Ron comes through..." She could feel Harry's shoulders shaking around hers, and when she looked up at him, she saw him hastily wipe a tear away.

"Ron's survived so far." She whispered.

"I know. That's good for him. Really good. Give me a lot of hope." Harry said, but it was as though he was convincing himself.

"I wish I could stay here forever." Hermione whispered quietly, "You left us too soon. Ron's still inconsolable whenever someone says your name. I still turn around to show you something in a book, something about Quidditch or magic or anything." She felt her eyes water, "Stupid, isn't it? It's been years. Years. I don't know if I'll ever get used to you being gone."

"I wish I could too." Harry agreed, "I hate seeing people pass through, like Ernie, knowing at least they're going to family. Me? Merlin knows how long I'll be here." He said dejected. Hermione felt horrible for not thinking of it sooner; how his whole life, eh'd only wanted to meet his parents, and now he couldn't do that even.

"Everyone misses you."

"I was the Chosen One. I failed them." Harry said evenly, and it was obvious he believed every word.

"Nonsense."

"Maybe I never was." Harry mused, "Maybe they got it wrong. Maybe it is Longbottom. Maybe it's neither." He looked Hermione square in the eye, "I hear you've gathered quite the fan club."

"It's ridiculous. I never wanted it." Hermione snapped, "I was just doing the right thing! People shouldn't be honoring me for that. If it was more common, it wouldn't be so miraculous." She huffed.

"And you claim I- who has been trapped in limbo for years-haven't changed?" He said, raising an eyebrow at her. Hermione blushed.

"I've changed, Harry. I'm not a good person anymore." She said. How did she imagine she wasn't going to tell Harry? She'd always felt so safe telling him her secrets. He didn't gossip, but he cared. It was silly to imagine she'd get through this without saying anything. Maybe she did want to live, maybe not? Either way, she wasn't going back with this guilt tearing through her, telling her she didn't deserve to live.

Maybe Harry would agree with those voices because he was those voices and her choice would be easy.

Harry didn't speak, he just looked at her, waiting. He was always more reasonable than Ron in tense situations, so it didn't surprise her much that he was waiting to make a judgement.

"I promised myself going in I wouldn't turn out like this. I'm not the person I was in the beginning; I hate myself for it. I killed Lavender and Blaise. And when I killed Blaise...I enjoyed it. I am no better than Pansy herself; we're both pawns. We're just doing exactly what Voldemort wants and that's..." She swallowed, looking at Harry, and she saw the bloody mess he was the moment he died, "That's unforgivable."

"Lav thanked you, by the way, sort of." Harry spoke softly, "She told me as she passed on that she was so grateful. And Blaise...?" He just suppressed a sigh.

He stood, shrugging, "I can't judge you, Hermione. I couldn't. Seamus did tell me about it, Blaise. It wasn't you. Well, it was. But it was the darkness of Hermione. It exists in all of us. I don't think you're a villain for letting it out. I can see you want me to tell you what to do but...I can't."

"I thought you'd say that." Hermione gave a exhausted breath of air, "Worth a try."

"I'll leave you to it." Harry said, and hesitated, before surging forward and hugging her again, "In case this is good-bye." He whispered hoarsely.

"I won't...see you again?" Hermione felt her breath hitch painfully.

"I can't say. I've never sent someone back before. I hope I get to." He said, "I love you Hermione, remember that." He said. Hermione looked back, knowing well it wasn't the sort of love Seamus felt for her, but a family/sibling type of love. A bond of a best friend.

"I love you too, Harry." She replied, and he began to back away, "Wait! Harry!" She called, and he turned slightly, adjusting his glasses, "In the arena...you saved my life. Telling me to put the cloak over me and after. Was it really you? Or was I just hallucinating?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"You should know by now Hermione. Those you love...they never leave you." He gave a half-grin, chuckling, before fading back into the white.

Hermione turned around, trying not to over-think everything he'd said. As she began to take a couple steps away, things came into view. It was as though she'd been trapped in a thick mist, and each step brought her out of the fogginess.

It was King's Cross, albeit the cleanest she'd ever seen it. Every inch of the platform gleamed like someone had buffered it until it shown like stars. It looked better than new, it looked ethereal.

At the tracks, there was no train. But...there was a row of benches, and someone was sitting at one.

She stopped, frozen in her tracks.

"Seamus?"

Seamus lifted his head, and as soon as he saw Hermione, his whole body crumpled.

"No." He said, "You...you can't be here. I...you should have lived." He said. Hermione said nothing as she came to sat next to him. She looked him up and down; he too looked cleaned and perfect.

"I'm not dead. Not yet." She tilted her head, "Harry...he says it's my choice."

"You have to go back, obviously." Seamus' voice had a ferocity with it that startled her, "You have to." He repeated.

"What if..." Hermione felt her shoulders sag, "I can't?"

"Hermione, please. Otherwise what I did...was for nothin." He said firmly, and Hermione looked up, her eyes swimming.

"It was my fault though. If I'd been smarter, less foolhardy...you wouldn't be dead. Shouldn't I pay something for that? I led you to your death. Don't you hate me?" She asked, and she truly expected the worst.

"Hate?" Seamus almost chocked, "Merlin, woman, you have no idea? You didn't magic me to you, you didn't force me in front of Pansy. I am a big enough boy to make my own choices, ken?" He said, raising an eyebrow, then his voice grew serious, "I'd do it a thousand more times if it gave you a chance." His fingers hesitantly reached out to hers, and she let their hands intertwine.

"But..." Hermione shook her head, "You survived so long without me. After meeting me for only a couple days, our first time out, you were killed. You could still be alive now if I hadn't ever come your way."

"That's all just assumptions." He dismissed it, "I don't think so. The Games are hell, Hermione. You gave me a reason to want to survive. Had you not been picked, I wouldn't have tried nearly as hard to stay alive. Even dying, you gave me the best last couple days of my life. I got to be with the girl of my dreams, no matter how fleeting." At Hermione's frown, he continued, "If neither of us had been picked, I would have never said much of anything. I would have married a perfectly nice lass, had a kid or two, but always would be watching you and wondering...what you sounded like when I made yeh laugh, what you felt like, tasted like-,"

Hermione hit him on the shoulder, blushing, "Seamus!"

"It's true!" He laughed, and she followed, and his lips rested in a comfortable smile, "Not many people get a wish like that to come true."

"I don't see why you never asked me out." Hermione muttered, "I wouldn't have said no."

"I may be a Gryffindor but with women? Merlin, I'm a coward. Me and you? Different leagues, even." He insisted, but Hermione shook her head.

"I gave you a chance in the games. I think I would have given you one out there too." She said with an affirmative nod, "What if I want to go with you...on?"

Seamus gave an aggravated sigh, "Hermione-,"

"What if we go to different places after I die? What if I just die anyway in the games again, and I could have been with you the whole time? What if I do win, and years later, I can't find you on the other side or you've found someone else?" Hermione asked, nervously picking at her fingernails.

"If you tell me that you're in love with me, I won't believe it." Seamus said, "Hermione Granger doesn't fall that easily in love. She's smarter than that."

"You're right," She admitted, "I'm not. But I so easily could have been, will be, with a little more time." She ran her thumb over his skin.

"I would hate myself forever if you threw your chance at life away to be with me. I'm fabulous, but not worth it." He insisted.

"I think I get to make that choice."

"Don't...don't do this." Seamus said, his whole body quivering, "I don't want you like this. I want you after you win, after you enjoyed life. I'll always be waiting. No bird on earth could hold a candle to Hermione Granger."

Hermione heard the whistle of the train, and she leaned forward.

"I don't know what to do." She moaned.

"Go back. Please. I swear to Merlin, if you get on that train with me, I'll shove you off." He said, half-joking. She shot him a small smile, pushing her hair behind her ears, "Or I'll decide to not go either, come back as a ghost and haunt you forever!" He wiggled his fingers at her.

"No! Go on, find peace, Seamus." She insisted, appalled at the idea. He tugged on a curly strand of hair.

"Now you understand me, eh?" He said softly.

The train whistled as it pulled, up and Seamus stood.

"Don't follow me. I know you liked to break rules and all at Hogwarts, but don't break this one." He teased.

Hermione reached out, grabbing his wrist, and pulling him back toward her. She grabbed his face and pulled him into a long, searing kiss that made her whole body tremble.

"I love you." She whispered, "Not in the way fully I could, but I love you for what you did for me. All of it. I couldn't ever forget it." She murmured.

"I love you in every way I can." Seamus whispered. She felt him press something into the palm of her hands, "So you never forget me. Not even when Draco finds you." He muttered.

"What do you mean?" She asked, frowning.

"Never mind." He shrugged, and leaned forward to kiss her again, "Go home. Win. Please."

She felt his hand leave hers as he turned and hopped on the train. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to, she was stuck on the spot as their eyes met and the train started to break away to wherever it was taking him. Her heart felt as though it had shattered, but now...she did want to win.

She turned, and took a step, the thought of living exploding in her chest. By her second step, she had stepped back into darkness and the agonizing pain.

"Draco! She's waking up!" Colin's voice floated around, detached, far above her. Hermione couldn't move at all, but she forced her eyes open.

There was something digging into her palm. She forced her blurry vision down, and brought something close to her face with any effort she had left.

It was a charm on a worn, braided leather chain. The charm was a four-leaf clover, and in the center of it, a small emerald. She turned it around and saw the engraved initials 'S.D.F' etched into the back. She let out a small smile and a tear leaked down her cheek, before the energy she'd used caught up with her, and she fell back.

This time, she only went to her own, completely fantasized dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, if you couldn't tell, I defiantly wanted to mimic or give a tribute to the King's Cross scene in the 7th novel of HP. I did make some differences, mostly a) to make it my own b) fit this sort of world and c) I think that because Harry was the one on the other end, and not Dumbledore, the world works differently. That there's a sense of everyone that occupies the limbo job, if you will.
> 
> I suppose this was a huge reflection period for Hermione's character, and to get some much needed closure with both Harry and Seamus, which she otherwise wouldn't get. The next chapter will obviously go back to the main games. This is, though, like with Harry, the turning point. Hermione has chosen to go back; she's not going to half-ass this chance. It was also a good point to put her little change in because we're half-way through the tributes! Can you believe it? Seems like just yesterday they were starting day one...
> 
> Harry was for sure a challenge to write in this chapter, because I wanted him to hover between being the Harry we know and love but still retaining an idea of wiseness he's had time to grow upon in his years here. I hope I did him justice XD
> 
> Alive List:
> 
> GRYFFINDOR: Hermione, Colin, Ron
> 
> RAVENCLAW: Elizabeth, Mandy, Corner, Caligula
> 
> SLYTHERIN: Draco, Pike, Pansy, Tracey
> 
> Did you like the limbo? What did you think of Hermione with her interactions with Harry and/or Seamus? General thoughts or comments? Please send me a little review and make my day!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last week I had midterms. This week I had midterms AND got really sick. Urg; I thought last week was bad. On the plus side, I got to come home for a little bit, and see my family and all. We went to a family movie night to see Martian starring Matt Damon. I highly suggest it if you're looking for a really awesome movie that's out!  
> While this chapter isn't heavy on 'action wise' it's a lot of 'what happened after' that I think you do all want to see, and it's for sure rising up for a huge action/game maker's day after!

Pike was the first to speak when Pansy stumbled into the clearing, a little after the moon hung high in the sky.

"What happened?" He broke the silence with a stunned whisper, and the look Pansy gave him was deadly.

"I got in a fight with something the game-makers threw at me, alright? But I survived." She replied angrily, her fingers stained bright red and pressing hard to her side, "I killed Seamus though. Did you know he and Hermione were boning?" She asked.

Corner and Pike shared looks.

"I didn't even know they talked to each other." Corner admitted, eyes narrowing in thought.

"Yeah, too bad. Dead now." She shrugged.

"Are you sure-," Corner began to ask, and Pansy snapped her head up, glaring.

"If you are insinuating someone as pathetic as Seamus did this to me, you won't last any longer than he did." She hissed.

"No, just...never mind." Corner held up his hands.

Pike was not as easily deterred though. "What attacked you again?" He questioned, examining her cuts all over, the bruises beginning already on her face.

"Does it matter?" Pansy questioned, "Get your ass over here and help me. I'm bleeding out, Merlin, and you're asking what got to me?"

"Sorry." Pike felt the tips of his ears redden with shame, because she was right. She looked pretty pale to her usual.

"What do I need to do?" Corner asked, stumbling near at a safe distance. But Pike doubted Pansy could do much harm right now; she looked as though he could blow her over with a slight breeze!

"You're a Ravenclaw. Find me some damn plants or something that will help me. Or go call on some sponsors. Do something useful. Or do I have to spell everything out?"

Pike noticed she was being much more derisive than usual, not that she wasn't highly judgmental of them all the time, but he assumed it was from the pain. Even as she spoke, she swayed a bit.

"Why don't you sit, so I can examine you better?" He asked. Number one rule to Pansy; always let her save face.

"Well," She obviously wanted to sit, but seemed hesitant, "I suppose." She gave a grandiose sigh.

He knelt beside her, sucking in a sharp breath at the damage over her body. If she wasn't bleeding in a place, it was bumped or bruised. His eyes started at her face, near her cheeks, where the biggest and ugliest bruise so far was forming. He met Pansy's eyes, and adverted his swiftly.

His eyes traveled along the cuts, and he bit his tongue from saying the stupid thing he was thinking. Not that the thought itself was stupid; no he wasn't a Crabbe or Goyle and actually did decently well at exams, but to say it so Pansy could hear would be stupid. The returning thought was that these wounds...they were too precisely cut, sliced evenly. Even the sharpest of animal claws couldn't be so neat.

They looked as though they were done with a blade.

Unless it was someone sent down, or an animal/monkey thing that suddenly had great control over swinging a heavy object, she met someone out there. Maybe it was Seamus that did this, maybe it wasn't, but she wasn't going to ever admit to that.

He saw a blackened grit underneath the blood on her hands, covering her whole palm and fingers like she'd pressed it in black paint. It let off an awful smell and was warm to the touch, when his finger brushed along it accidentally. It brought him back to the more recent years of Dumstrang, right before Voldemort took over, when things were in an uproar and power was shifting so frequently. Dark Magic.

Pansy was weak right now, from her wounds and from her acts. He was still surprised she was still standing. But when he looked at her eyes again, there was an unnatural glint in them. He'd heard of someone becoming so intertwined with Dark Magic that it ate at them like a disease; just look at Lord Voldemort. Pike had heard rumors he'd been quite handsome back in his day, and well, no one but Bellatrix Lestrange (who was certifiably mental) was asking him out now. He wondered briefly is the Dark Magic, as odd as it were, was keeping her alive and upright, because it was consuming her.

He didn't ask though. If she did know, she wouldn't thank him for poking into her own choices. If she didn't...? In his own mind, after going to a school so known for it's Dark Magic, it was foolish to do something so great to bring this on, and not even know it. She might not even care, not if the Dark Magic was with her now. It made people do really crazy things.

"I had these in my packs." Corner came back, holding a needle and thread, "And I've tried to get the attention of some sponsors. It's likely three AM back home though, I don't know whose going to be up."

"Excuses." Pansy spat, "And you're just now showing me these? Ugg!" She snatched the needle and thread from his fingers, "Someone get me some water. To clean this, right, Ravenclaw?" She looked pointedly at Corner.

"Well, some alcohol would be better-,"

"Do we have that?" Pansy raised a hopeful eyebrow, although her voice was still scathing.

"Well..no-,"

"Then that was quite the useless thing to say, wasn't it? Water." She directly curtly. She looked back down at Pike, who was still studying her wounds. His head was still wrapping around, well, everything, "You're going to sew me." She said.

"Huh?" Pike was surprised beyond words, "Why...me?"

He'd never done anything like this before, not even at home. He'd never seen anyone do it either, and he guessed Corner knew more about than him.

"I don't trust Corner. I don't trust anyone, as a general rule of thumb, but I trust you a smidgen more than him, so it's your job. I would do it myself bu-," She stopped herself swiftly. She almost gave away she needed help. Her eyes flashed down to her hands, giving it away, and his gaze followed. Even holding her side, they were shaking so violently that she couldn't have even tried to string it or sew if she tried.

Besides, despite whatever was keeping her awake- maybe just adrenaline and not Dark Magic- it was waning. He couldn't even imagine the pain she must be in, and if she fainted after the first needle through her skin, he'd be able to keep going.

The air around them had cooled considerably, although it hadn't been as noticeable until now. Now, tiny flakes began to dust the clearing. Pansy, shivering more from the cold, looked up.

"For Merlin's sake..." She whispered, her voice breaking, the first very visible sign that she wasn't as much with it as she seemed to be. Pike took this moment of weakness to question her.

"What really got to you? I'd follow you anywhere, you know that." He said, his cold fingers fumbling to thread the needle.

"You don't need to know." Pansy said softly, and he took that answer as proof enough it wasn't something the game makers sent.

"Did you at least make them pay?" Pike questioned, raising an eyebrow as he finally knotted the darn thing, "This might hurt."

Pansy hardly responded, and didn't even after he pierced the skin at her side. She was lifting her shirt, nearly over her head, for him to get the best angle. He could see the bottom of her breasts, and coughed and looked down as quick as he could without messing up his work. It's not like they weren't nice to look at, Merlin he would have looked at any bird's breasts now, but they were Pansy's. She'd quicker cut his hand off for trying to touch it than let him get anywhere, or even compliment them. They were nice.

"Well, there hasn't been a second cannon, has there?" Pansy said sourly, her lips twisting.

"I'd rather have you alive than whoever it was." Pike said, and Pansy seemed to relax slightly at his comment, meaning it was a correct one, "Besides, if you even did a fraction to them of what you look like, they won't last long. Not in this weater. I could go hunt them down, make them suffer for what they did. I'd do it. Gladly." He wasn't even lying; he would not only love some action to really hurt someone like he had with Lavender, but it would be so much sweeter to do it for Pansy's revenge. It would be worse.

Pansy pursed her lips, and her whole face darkened, "You wouldn't get there in time."

"They'd be...dead?" Pike frowned.

"Worse, Draco will find them." She winced as he pulled the string through, the first reaction to his work.

Pike was very silent, "Unless it's Tracey, I don't understand why he'd help someone else?"

"Because..." Pansy gave a long sigh, "He's in love with her. Or he thinks he is."

Pike wasn't even sure which females were alive and dead at this point, so he stayed quiet. He didn't have a smidgen of a clue who it could be anyway, which was likely how Pansy preferred it.

"He's been brainwashed, I swear. She's been slipping him love potions for years." She said. Pike startled.

"Really?"

"What other option is there?" Pansy replied, her voice raising, "This girl is filth. Draco deserves so much better, and he wouldn't ever look at her if she wasn't doing something like that. She's taken him over. I should have killed her when I had the chance; then whatever Draco's been having would have worn off. He would have seen reason, came back to me." Pansy insisted firmly.

"Heck, if that's true..." Pike gave a low whistle, "She sounds awful."

"She is." Pansy's eyes were beginning to glaze over with pain, "I should have killed her. I should have."

"You won't have to chose next time." Pike tried to cheer her up, "Even if Draco does find her, it will be two against three." He said. Pansy took a couple deep breaths.

"You're right." She admitted, "I'm just being affected by it all. But you breathe one word to Corner or anyone to indicate I was weak just now, at all, and I cut you into a thousand pieces while you're still alive." She threatened.

Pike almost let out a sigh of relief; this was far more familiar. Not that he enjoyed being threatened, but the vulnerable Pansy scared him. He didn't know how to react to it.

"Yes ma'am."

"Keep sewing. I don't want it to look as thought a toddler did it, Webber." She commanded in her normal tone, and Pike nodded.

Snow was coming down harder now, and Corner began to try to make a shield for them with magic from the chill. When he had a semi-working one up, he began to make a fire. When Pike gave him a crazed look, he scoffed.

"What? Whose going to attack us? They'd be suicidal." Corner said confidently. Pike looked back at Pansy, who didn't even seem to hear, for she was drifting in and out of sleep.

"Pansy couldn't fight right now." Pike hissed under his breath, so she didn't hear.

"We could though. She's protected us, fed us. We'd protect her." Corner said, and Pike bit his lip. Pansy was both of their best bet. While Corner's proposition seemed noble, Pike saw the cunning underneath it. No Pansy, no willing sponsors, less likely chance. They might still survive, they were good at these things after all, but their likelihood of survival would be significantly less, seeing as though there were obviously more goody-two-shoes that would band together with each other first than Corner or Pike. He knew that both of them had the thought crossing their mind of killing her now, or leaving her here alone. But if either of those backfired...he shuddered; no protecting her was clearly the best option.

"I suppose." Pike came closer to the fire. The air around his was warming from Corner's attempt at a protective bubble. It was doing the job, for now.

THEGREENGAMES

Caligula woke up, and his fingers reached out and retracted quickly; something was ice-cold. With a groan, he accepted the fact it had snowed again. The first time, he'd been completely shocked by it, and it had come as quite the shock.

He should have expected it this time though, because last night a friendly bird sent to him informed him of the word 'cold'. He'd more or less brushed the thought away, due to exhaustion his part, and laid down without the thought that it would snow...again.

But the game makers were cruel bastards, weren't they?

His body was warm, and he noticed a second jacket laying on top of him. He raised his head, threading his fingers through his long hair and wrapping it up with a piece of string, to see Mandy sitting on a rock overlooking the arena. They'd reached a high point last night, but he didn't realize until now how much they saw.

They'd gone quite far too; pretty much running away since they'd almost run into Pansy and the other baddies, wanting to be nowhere near them, or far enough ahead to out-pace them.

He shrugged the second jacket off, and took a tentative step onto the snow. Sure, the soles of his feet had callused enough to create a leathery exterior, it didn't mean he'd lost all the never endings. It was uncomfortable to walk barefoot across the snow. He'd prefer flaming coals any day.

"Aren't you cold?" He questioned, starling Mandy, eyeing her milky white exposed arms. If he was straight, he'd likely admire them, or admit that she was an unexpected beauty. She rubbed her arms, although seemingly not out of chilliness, as there wasn't even goosebumps raised along her flesh.

"The cold rarely bothers me. I know you get easily cool, though." She said, never taking her eyes off the horizon. A smidgen of warmth flooded his body. He recalled that they had disliked each other at Hogwarts, and even at the beginning of the game. They were together because they were Ravenclaws, even if she didn't quite consider him a 'real' one. He'd thought their exchange wouldn't pass more than the standard brotherhood their house held dear, but this comment showed change. She not only recalled his dislike of cold temperatures, but gave him her coat while he slept. It was almost...nice.

"Thanks." He said, and sat with her.

The arena seemed to stretch for miles. He could see, in the distance, where their beginning point was. It was a large bald patch among a tightly packed groping of trees. He saw smaller cliffs and rivers and hills. He saw other clearings, dots of disturbed forest in the distance, and his eyes followed it to the edge of forever.

"It's probably not that big." Mandy said, reading his thoughts, "There's a barrier around us, invisible of course. We're just looking at the poor forest they've decimated to play their games." She said bitterly.

"How do you know?" He asked, frowning.

She pointed back, about twelve feet from where he'd fallen asleep. "See the shimmer there? How it almost looks like the air when something's burning?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"That's the barrier. Strong magic. Don't touch it though," she showed a red hand full of burnt, bubbled skin, "It's painful."

"I thought a Ravenclaw would be smarter than to touch something like that." He scoffed.

"I threw a rock through it, and it landed on the other side. It only keeps humans in. It's how the hovercrafts can arrive." She said, "But yes, not my smartest moment." She shoved her hand back into the snow, where it had been previously.

"Are you just numbing your hand or...?"

"I woke up, couldn't sleep. Watched the sunrise." Her breath caught, "It's been ten days already. It feels much longer."

"Only ten?" Caligula's voice rose in surprise, "Sheesh." He agreed; it had seemed like months he'd been trapped here, waiting to die. I suppose when facing one's own mortality, time either slowed down or sped up. He'd rather it speed up, personally.

He was under no idea he'd make it out of here alive. He was smart, true, but there were much better competitors out there, stronger and better than him. He was going up against the likes of Draco Malfoy. He didn't believe the rumors he was healing people, but it could be true. If it was, that was honestly all the more reason to fear him. Anyone who knew how to heal someone properly knew exactly how to kill them as well. At least, he mused, it wouldn't be painful when he went.

Mandy was up against Pansy, which was a worse threat. He didn't know if she'd come to that conclusion yet, that she'd likely not make it out of there either, but from her expression and her faraway gaze, perhaps she had. Maybe she was regretting not killing Pansy when she had the chance, no matter how many times he assured her she'd been taken down too, and that wouldn't be a reasonable move.

"Do you think after this is done, they'll leave this forest alone again?" She questioned.

"The usually seem to. The games are never in the same places. Voldemort has a whole lot of land to chose from." He said, recalling some previous games that were set near oceans, or on a desert.

"To think...one day someone will be walking around here, and never know the horrors this place saw, the bloodshed it absorbed." Mandy mused, frowning, "That one day it will re-grow and any idea any of us were ever here will be as though it never existed."

"That's sort of sad." He agreed, knowing that one day, he might be remembered, but nothing more than as the boy who died in the 6th Green Games or that he was gay or that he was American and Native American so of course he didn't make it or-

It was causing him to have an existential crisis.

Mandy stood, grabbing a knife from his pocket, "Here." She said, going to a tree, "Can I?" She motioned to the tree, waving her knife at it.

"You won't kill it, I guess." Caligula said, confused, although knowing where she was going with it...slightly.

She began to carve deep into it, flourished letters, his view obscured until nearly the very end. When she stepped back, their names were carved into the bark; 'Mandy and Caligula. We existed. We fought. We nearly lived.'

"If either of us makes it, we'll come back for it." She said, tears leaking from her eyes, another unexpected sight. Mandy always seemed so put together, so strong, "If we don't, the tree will speak for anyone that finds it."

"Things are going to end soon, I think." Caligula agreed, his throat tightening at the sight, "For us or for the game. Of which, I can't decide."

THEGREENGAMES

Hermione woke gradually. She let herself breathe, eyes closed, but awake for a couple moments before she creaked her eyes open. Someone was at her side at an instant. When she saw his face light up with glee, Hermione couldn't help but let her's brighten as well.

"Colin! You are real." She said, and tried to get up.

"Woah, slow down." Colin pressed her shoulder back onto the mat, "You pretty much died. Take it slow."

"Pretty much?" Hermione questioned, and Colin bit his lip.

"Your heart stopped for twelve seconds, before you woke up. The cannons didn't even have a chance to fire. Don't know how that works into the rules, but you haven't been carted away. I think they just won't tell the public." Colin said.

Hermione, laying supine, nodded.

"This conversation won't be broadcasted then, either." She chuckled, thinking of the people scurrying around, trying to change to something else before any word got out. Colin grinned again.

"How do you feel?"

It was a legitimate question, one Hermione hadn't even paused to ask herself. Now that she was back into the world of the living, away from the effortless place of no pain and suffering, it was odd. Everything felt heavier, compared to the whiteness of limbo.

"Everything hurts." She moaned, and winced as she shifted, "I feel like I got run over by a train." She said. Being in the games so far had kept her quite fit; she hadn't felt this way in a long time. It was the sort of feeling after you've worked out suddenly after being non-active for a long time, and the aftermath where there was just a dull, aching throbbing in every muscle in your body. But this was worse; it was like someone had been forcing her muscles to move even after she'd been out.

"Understandable." Colin said, and she saw his eyes traveling down her body. She lifted her head slightly, and winced at her appearance. Her whole body was covered in purple bruises.

"I did fall off a cliff. I think." She tried to recall the exact events- she'd seen them so clearly with Harry- but now they were almost fuzzy, far away.

"Yeah." Colin rubbed the back of his neck, "Nasty fall. And stabbed." He sounded tired as he spoke, worn-out. Hermione thought of all her wounds.

"I wasn't an easy person to fix. You look exhausted; shouldn't you be sleeping?" It was only fair. She was out of the woods now, and Colin seemed like he was going to fall asleep standing upright.

"Oh, don't worry about me." He waved his hand, "Draco's the one who really deserves it."

It was the first time Hermione acknowledged another person in the cave- Draco napping on a second pallet near the entrance, deeply engaged in his sleep. Colin followed her gaze; "I mean, I had to wake him up anytime something, anything, happened. I never took medic classes. He was up eight hours straight saving you, and then maybe got half-hour naps if we were lucky. I got a few more hours than that. I've been watching you for about four hours though, letting him sleep." Colin said proudly. Hermione's first thought was Harry's comment, about how someone down there was really trying to save her. She'd thought it was a sponsor, maybe Fred or McGonagall sending down helpful things and leading someone to her, but now she realized that it was him. He'd spent hours reconstructing her, from what it seemed. Eight to be exact.

Eight was a long time, she realized with a jolt.

"Eight-what time is it?" Hermione tried to turn to see the light of the outside, but her body cried in protest.

"Geeze, uhm, likely dusk." Colin shrugged, "I'm surprised you're awake now. Draco didn't think you'd be up for another day."

Hermione found it unnerving to hear Colin refer to Malfoy so casually as Draco. "Why are you here, Colin?" She asked bluntly.

"Dunno. Draco never asked me to leave, and I never had a reason to. He's actually sort of nice. Weird, I know." He held up his hands, grinning, and Hermione laughed with him.

"Don't make me laugh!" She tried to swat at him, "It hurts too much." She wailed dramatically. His smile never left.

"Much as Draco's an ok companion, Merlin am I glad to see you. His sense of humor is so...deadpanned." Colin elaborated with a shudder, "Gryffindors get real humor."

Hermione's lips quirked upward, "Well, don't make me laugh too much. Don't want all your hard work to go to waste." She said. She felt her fingers automatically travel down, and brush against a raw and raised scar on her chest. Tight stitches ran through it, done with a steady hand, and Hermione knew that despite likely Draco's best efforts, it would still leave a scar.

"What did it hit?"

"What didn't it?" Colin wheezed, "I don't know what all the medical stuff was, with you. I don't fully know if Draco does. I worried you might still bleed internally, but Draco did some spell, and you seem okay...for now." He added softly .Hermione jerked her hand away. She didn't like thinking her life was so preciously in balance, not after going to limbo.

"Do you still have the sword?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, we haven't a chance to toss it yet." Colin rubbed the back of his neck.

"I want it."

"Blimey, Hermione. It killed you."

"It's mine though. It has my name on it." Hermione insisted firmly, "And Pansy deserves some revenge." She muttered sourly as an after thought. Colin hesitated, but got up, brushing off his knees and going over to a shallower part of the cave. When he came back, he held it in a fabric, and laid it by Hermione's hands.

She wiggled cautiously to a half-sitting position, and took it. It was the perfect weight in her hand, and it felt right. It had been hard to realize it in the battle, but it truly was made specifically to her. It would be a shame to throw it away, if she had been considering it for a moment, which she hadn't. She needed protection, obviously, because her hand still looked like it wasn't miraculously healed, and would need time to set and re-grow.

"This is also what saved me, you know. I don't think I could have beaten Pansy then and there without it." She said, watching the light reflect off the blade, and then looked at Colin. He'd saved her too, "Thank you."

"I wouldn't want that sort of dagger, but-,"

"No. For saving me." Hermione said, "Really."

"I didn't do much. Got in Draco's way often, he told me." Colin blushed at the thought, wincing.

"Well, you still saved me. I know I wouldn't have been here if you weren't with Draco." She said firmly. He gave her a curious look.

"How so?"

"Well, you convinced Draco to save my life, right?" Hermione felt silly spelling it out. She didn't understand why Colin needed to hear it; it wasn't life-changing admissions of truth, just facts, "I remember the look he gave me when he saw me. Disgust. You must have done something to get him to even think about healing me. I owe you one."

Colin only laughed, "Even if I did convince Draco, which I didn't, you can't..." He fumbled for his words, "Draco spent a meticulous eight hours of exhausting work to save your life, and never once tried to take a break, or blame you. You can't be that dedicated, even if you are a healer, if you also didn't want that person to live."

He let Hermione digest the words.

"So..." She twiddled her thumbs, "You're saying Draco healed me? By his own volition?" She was quite surprised, "But why?"

Colin sudden looked sheepish, "That's really something he needs to tell you. He'd kill me right now if I tried." He said.

"I don't understand." Hermione said. Colin shrugged, and smiled, but his teeth were grit.

"You'll understand soon." He said.

There was rustling from the other end of the cave. Draco lifted his head, his eyes sharpening in on Colin's and Hermione's forms. His whole body awakened.

"Creevey! She's awake and you didn't think you should tell me?" He said, springing up, glaring hard at Colin.

"Oh, it's my fault. I was talking to him." Hermione said.

"Were you also keeping him on a leash? What if something was-Merlin!" Draco sounded more agitated than usual. Every time that Hermione looked at him, he seemed to be hating her, but in the next, there was a different emotion in his eyes.

"Sorry."

"Go to sleep, you bloody Gryffindor." Draco softened, but still scowled at Colin, "You managed not to kill her on your watch, so thanks."

"I'm going to sleep." Colin said, nodding to Hermione, "I'm pretty exhausted. We can talk later, of course." He said.

"Yeah, course." Hermione watched him stumble over to the remaining cot, and a moment after his body crashed onto the softness, he was snoring.

It made Hermione feel a bit uneasy to be left with Draco.

For a long time, they didn't speak. Instead, he ran different tests on her with his hands, waving over her body. He seemed pleased by all the results, so Hermione relaxed back.

After the tests, Draco turned around to a couple of dug-out shelves. "Hungry?" He asked tensely, his voice carefully controlled. Hermione realized that she hadn't eaten in two days; there simply wasn't time in between Seamus going out, him dying, her dying...it seemed so much longer than almost 42 hours ago.

"Starved." She said, and her stomach growled on cue. Draco almost smiled.

While he got a fire going and began to cook something, Hermione studied the necklace in her fingers. Never once did she think that what she experienced wasn't real. She was far more accepting, after everything she'd seen here, and merely being a witch as it were. Even if she were to wonder about the authenticity of it, she now had proof that there was something else out there, and Harry was waiting.

Tears crept up on her, and it wasn't until a tear slipped down her cheek did she realize how resoundingly sad she was to lose Seamus. It was the dullest, but most persistent ache in her whole body.

Her fingers ran adoringly over his initials, and she felt so privileged to have this. She could see him twirling the charm in his fingers when he was nervous in school or in the games, such a familiar Seamus expression.

"That's Seamus'." Draco's voice startled her, and she looked up to see his eyes firmly glued to it.

"Yeah." Hermione answered softly, "It is."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked hurt for a moment. He looked right at Hermione this time, any semblance of hatred vanished from his eyes. Instead, they were just storms of grey, a battle she didn't understand raging beneath them.

"Was he something to you?" He asked, and Hermione hesitated a moment longer than she wanted to.

"No." She said, stuffing the charm back into a pocket, "We weren't anything at all, really."

And they weren't. One night and a day did not make two people anything other than perhaps friends, which they already were. Despite that what they'd done was by definition more than friends, it wasn't...She bit her lip. Even more, she didn't want Draco to know that he was everything to her. That, with maybe just another week, she could have loved him as passionately as he loved her. Draco didn't deserve to know, no one did. It was a secret she couldn't imagine spilling to Draco, let alone the whole world. She wanted to keep those emotions, those thoughts, those desires to herself. She wanted Seamus, those memories, to herself.

She deserved to be a little selfish.

Besides, Draco's posture relaxed at it, as if relieved, although that made little sense to Hermione. He nodded to her words, and turned back to the food.

"I am sorry, by all means." He said, back to her, "He was a Gryffindor after all. Loosing housemates hurts anyone."

"thanks." Hermione said awkwardly, and considered returning the gesture, but with Blaise. But knowing that she'd killed him, although she was sorry, made the words catch up in her throat. Sorry wouldn't cut it, she told herself. She just wan't sure how yet.

Draco sat carefully on the edge of the bed, near her legs. He handed her a spit with some kind of meat on it, and a canteen of water. He had a spit for himself, but he waited until Hermione took the first bite.

She wasn't even apprehensive, or questioned what it was. She ate it ferociously, like a starving wolf, and hardly tasted whatever it was at all, but she felt as if she could eat twelve more. Luckily, Draco was prepared, and pulled two more spits from the ground. Hermione devoured the second, and by the third, was satiated enough to allow herself to actually enjoy it.

She, if she had to bet money on it, would say the mystery meat was a rabbit or some other small mammal.

She drank the whole canteen too.

"Good to see you hungry. It's a good sign." Draco said to himself more than Hermione, very professional and doctor like. He still seemed...distant to her. More like the Draco she knew at Hogwarts, not at all like the Draco she met on the balconies. They were like two totally different people at this point. She was tempted to ask if he had a twin somewhere, but he didn't much seem in the mood for any sort of humor. He was tearing off his meat with precision, and savoring each bite. He went over and drove the last spit into the ground next to Colin, for whenever he got hungry.

Hermione watched him shuffle around, still not saying much of anything at all to her. She though about what COlin said, and how he was correct. He had deliberately chosen to save her, but he was walking around her like he'd shattered glass around her bed and couldn't get to close.

There was a tingling sound of a package, but all that drifted down was a little rolled scroll. When Draco came back with it, he shook tiny snowflakes from his hair. It was a winter phase, Hermione said, and marveled in this moment at how well this cave was. With all the spells laced into it, she couldn't have told you it was snowing outside, for she was perfectly warm.

Draco was examining the scroll carefully, but she saw a small smile creep onto his lips. He didn't inform her of this good news though, but tucked it into his pocket in his jacket.

"Why did you save me?" Hermione blurted, and Draco looked up slowly, his whole face calm and collected.

"Do I need a reason?" He asked, but the idea of the question didn't quite reach his eyes. There was that lingering hate that he held, for whatever reason, that held him back from being truly sincere.

"Yes." Hermione said, her fingers playing at the fraying material on her shirt, "I don't believe you, as a Slytherin, would do anything without expecting something else in return. Besides, Colin told me that whatever the reason was, I should hear it from you."

Draco's jaw twitched as he grit his teeth hard. He looked back to the Gryffindor's sleeping figure. "Is that so?" He asked airily.

"Yes."

"What else did he say?"

"Nothing much at all. He just wouldn't tell me why. I mean, he did tell me that you chose to save me, instead of him begging you to..." Hermione trailed off, suddenly shy and shocked she'd asked, "That you'd kill him if he told me, I'd 'understand'."

Draco dragged a hand down his face. "Merlin," was all he muttered.

"So?"

Hermione forced herself to be brave, looking at Draco with her head cocked, and her eyes searing into his skin.

Draco glared at Colin once more, but looked down to where the scroll was in his pocket.

"You're right. I do expect something in return." He said, and Hermione wasn't sure if she should be pleased she could read him so easily or disappointed, "Don't give me that look. It's not difficult." He added, and she dropped the expression from her face. She hadn't realized she'd been making one in the first place.

"Oh?"

"I need you to help me take down Pansy." Draco said, and came over to her bedside agin. This time, he sat on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest.

"Erm..." Hermione wasn't sure where her thoughts were taking her. Twelve different places at least, but which to follow?

"I know it sounds obvious, but-,"

"No, not really. You're the second smartest at Hogwarts, Draco. I don't understand why you can't just do it."

"Pansy's not someone to fuck around with. You didn't see yourself when I found you. She's dipping into dark magic more, and that's a most dangerous road, one where she just becomes darker and more deranged each day." Draco said sharply, angry, but not at her. He seemed almost angry at himself.

"I still got away though, sort of." She said, looking down at her wound, "I held my own, and I wasn't expecting a fight. You would."

"I took the Healer's Oath, Hermione." Draco bit his lip, "Before the games. I can't..." he threw his hands out, "I won't kill anyone."

"So I'm just your assassin for rent?" Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"No!" Draco said quickly, "I'd help you. I just can't be the one to finish it. I also have money, for anything during these games. Provisions. Safety. Medicine; you name it."

"Why me? Colin's not half bad, you know." Hermione said, trying to understand his motive. Getting him to talk right now was like- as her mother often said- pulling teeth.

"Not as good as you." Draco said, "She needs to be stopped, she cannot win. If we split up, she can pick us off easier. We have our best chance of survival if we team up with a goal to end her."

"I'm still not sure." Hermione rubbed her fingers together.

Draco pulled the scroll from his pocket and handed it to her. She unfurled it, and saw a list of names.

"It's the odds of winning. It's updated every day by my father, referenced by Rita's predictions, and the public's betting routine that they decide based on what the tributes do during the day."

"Pansy's the top." Hermione swallowed thickly.

"We both know that if she wins, no one else does. She's made that abundantly clear." Draco scoffed.

Next on the list was...her own name. Draco must have seen her face, because he gave a little smirk.

"You underestimate yourself. You basically died, and people still think you're the second-most formidable here. That says something huge."

Hermione didn't want to be second, no matter how comforting it was to imagine all these people rooting for her. It was putting a heavy weight on her shoulders. She glanced back down.

"You're third." She realized, seeing Draco's name right beneath hers, with only slightly smaller odds, but theirs were nearly tied as it was.

"You see my logic?"

"Yes." Hermione admitted begrudgingly, setting the scroll at her lap, "I suppose I owe you a life debt as it is, or something. You did save my life." She paused, "Thank you."

"I'm a healer, or might have been. It's...in my code." he said, but then looked unsure of himself, "And I did...want to." His eyes raged with conflict.

Hermione was about to question his unexpected hatred for her, but glanced back down at the scroll, curious to see quickly where Colin lay in the pecking order. She read the list once, and her hands started to shake. She read it four more times, still not understanding.

"What?" Draco's features sharpened, seeing her expression, "Is there a secret message?" He leaned forward, but saw nothing.

"No...there's a mistake." Hermione squeaked out, feeling as though this was a cruel practical joke that wasn't funny at all, "Someone on here's dead."

"Who?" Draco asked, examining it carefully.

"Hannah." Hermione choked out, feeling a tear slip away from her control, "She's dead. She died the night Ernie died, when Blaise and Corner attacked our camp. I got separated from Elizabeth, watched Hannah be bludgeoned by a rock, and somehow survived." She whispered.

Draco peered at her curiously, "Whatever you saw...it wasn't what you think."

"I know what I saw!" Hermione defended herself, "Do you think I wanted to imagine her death? She was my best friend here!"

"She's alive, Hermione." Draco said, and Hermione just stared at him with wide eyes. He cracked a grin, which she found awful given their conversation, "She found me, in bad shape, nearly dead, but still kicking. I saved her, unless you're telling the truth and I released a zombie back into the wild, but I'm 99.3% sure I didn't."

Hermione went slack-jawed, shaking her head, "Don't fuck with me, Malfoy-,"

"Hermione," Draco's eyebrows creased, the humor vanishing quickly, "I'm not. Hannah's alive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Did you think Draco was going to profess his undying love to Hermione right off the bat? Unlikely ;) He's not even realized it himself, even though EVERYONE ELSE does. Even Pansy noticed it in school. When she notices, it's bad, Draco lol.
> 
> And yes! Hannah is alive! Oooh, i've been waiting to spring this on you guys for like..forever XD Remember back at the end of 15 where someone wanders into Draco's realm and he decides he's the doctor, but it was never referred who it was? Yep, that was Hannah! Yes, Hannah did have a POV scene where it makes it seem like she died- but she just closed her eyes, you never even heard or saw her response of the rock hitting her or anything, but things can be mighty deceiving. I made careful to never mention right after, or since, how many cannons had gone off because some smarty-pants would have said 'but wait- you're missing a cannon!'. No one referred to her death, and Hermione was out so long, she just assumed since she'd seen Hannah go down she'd died. The sound of the cannon was both Hannah hitting the ground and a hallucination in Hermione's highly pain-filled body, like how Harry was sort of a hallucination. No one else besides Hermione ever referred to her dying, unless Hermione told them they were dead, in which case they were speaking on false information. So what's Hannah been doing the whole time? Laying low, basically, getting better. Although Draco healed her, she's still not in the best shape, although you'll see why later.
> 
> Many of you might wonder WHY I HURT YOU LIKE THIS?! Trust me; it was not just to torture you all. I knew that this was going to happen from day one of the games, that she had to be separated like this. Basically, Hermione needed to feel completely alone and BE alone to truly become the person worthy of winning the games that she is today. A lot of things wouldn't have happened had Hannah stayed with her that defined her as a change in her personality. It couldn't even just be that they were separated, like Elizabeth from Hermione, because she was best friends with Hannah. It had to be death. Maybe you don't agree with me, but I do feel as though it was necissary to grow...for both of them. Hannah, since, has gotten much more confident since she's been suviving alone, and you'll see when she finds Hermione again :)
> 
> Some of you will also likely ask where the Elizabeth/Ron duo is. Still around; nothing much important happened between them, therefore no need to tell it. If something had happened, I would have written it.
> 
> For those curious; here's the list Draco received. I didn't write the chances of their winning next to it, because I didn't want to think about math right now, but here's a basic idea of who the outside world thinks is most likely to win, in order of everyone still alive. Top, most likely, bottom, least likely. The top three stay pretty static, numbers 4-8 change pretty frequently depending on what someone's done during the day, and then the last ones stay pretty much in the same positions too, if maybe shifting just among themselves almost predictably.
> 
> 1\. Pansy
> 
> 2\. Hermione
> 
> 3\. Draco
> 
> 4\. Corner
> 
> 5\. Pike
> 
> 6\. Ron
> 
> 7\. Mandy
> 
> 8\. Hannah
> 
> 9\. Colin
> 
> 10\. Caligula
> 
> 11\. Elizabeth
> 
> 12\. Tracey
> 
> If you at all liked it, please oh pretty please review it! Your reviews heal me :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it been so long already? Sheesh; you take a moment to breath and weeks fly by, eh? A month, exactly...I didn't plan that. I'm just procrastinating on a paper.

Dean angrily wiped away the charcoal with the back of his hand, smudging the dust across the page. Sitting with his sketchbook propped against his knees, he just couldn't get the face right. The dim light of his wand-tip sat next to him on the desk, the murmuring of the radio in the background making the house seem not too empty. Of course he knew it wasn't empty; the rest of the Weasley family left, The Grangers, Neville, Terry, a couple others; actually the house was full to the brim.

But it was nearing three in the morning, and everyone was asleep or gone from the house, and it was Dean's turn to take watch. They had decided that they didn't need the TV on at all times, and if there was something worth seeing they'd hear it on the radio and then likely see it replayed in the papers for the rest of the day. There was also no need for everyone to be up, not when things rarely happened at night. Sometimes they did, thus the need for a night watcher, but often it didn't.

It wasn't even Dean's technical turn, but Bill's. Yet Dean offered because Bill looked exhausted lately with his wife pregnant and youngest brother battling it in the games, and Dean wasn't going to sleep at all anyway, because Seamus was dead.

It had been just over 24 hours, more like 36, and Dean still didn't quite believe it. Tears sprung to his eyes, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He'd died for Hermione. Dean knew he'd always loved that bloody bird, but he wasn't sure he could forgive her, not with Seamus now gone when he just as likely could have still been alive had he not found Hermione. And Hermione didn't even seen to care about it; he'd heard her answer when Draco asked what Seamus was to her.

Hermione was Seamus' whole life, or what had been left of it.

And he'd been nothing to her.

It sickened Dean. He thought he'd known her better.

Seamus' face on the Bristol paper wasn't coming out how it was supposed to.

It was silly to imagine he's so soon forget how Seamus' face looked, that it could just vanish within two days, but Dean felt like he had to draw this otherwise it wouldn't matter. If he didn't, he'd go mad with grief. He now understood how it felt for Ron when Harry died. He'd always thought Ron's pain to be overstated, because he wasn't even family, but now with Seamus gone Dean could have argued he felt it worse.

Seamus' family would be coming to the Burrow soon. Mrs. Weasley invited them to mourn around those that knew him at Hogwarts, to have a support system of other parents that knew what it was like. To get his things in order from Hogwarts; the box of things thrown in haphazardly with his name in ink and his trunk arriving to their doorstep, everything left of Seamus expect his body.

How would they react to Hermione's parents being here? They had to have the same thoughts as he did, surely?

Dean had never hated the Green Games as much as he did in that moment.

He slammed his sketchbook down, running his messy fingers down his head, staring out the window to the gently swaying grass and the sky twinkling in the cool summer air. He grabbed the radio, and quietly unlocked the door.

He lay just off the pathway on the soft and dewy lawn, staring up, and setting the radio beside him. He leaned over, turning up the volume slightly so that it just barely carried over the whispering wind, and stared upward.

"Merlin, Sea." He chocked out, "You bloody arse. Leaving me alone. For Hermione." He shut his eyes tightly, "I hope you knew what you were doing."

On the radio, some past Ravenclaw on the late-show was summing up the day's events for those that missed it; but who would? The entire Wizarding World basically paused when these games were on; no one wanted to miss anything. You always knew someone in the games; a sister of a friend, a daughter of a co-worker's cousin, the neighbor boy you'd seen working in the farms for his father that one summer. If you didn't know people, you were probably investing money into fates anyway, and no one liked getting bad news from others.

Dean hadn't watched much of today, though. He'd only caught the bits with Hermione, Colin, and Malfoy, much to his dismay. There hadn't been much action today, unfortunately. Pansy had been healed; Caligula and Mandy realized the reality of their odds, Elizabeth had managed to catch a pheasant to eat and Ron was acting surly, Tracy was still doing god knows what god knows where. It all seemed so trivial to him.

He twisted a blade of grass between his fingers.

The program changed, and Rita's theme came on.

Dean shot up. Rita only appeared on air when important things were going to be said. He snatched up the radio as he opened the front door with a bang.

"OI! Rita's on the radio!"

"Merlin, Dean. It's 3 in the morning." Ginny appeared at the railing first, tying a bathrobe around her figure, scowling down at him.

"Exactly why he woke us." Fred said anxiously, jumping down the double flight of stairs that separated his room from the main floor, "Turn it up!" He demanded, wringing his fingers. Dean carried the radio to the kitchen, setting it on the dining table, and turned it up as loudly as it would go.

The members of the house began to trickle in, as they wiped exhaustion from their faces and got coffee or tea to help them awaken. Dean personally thought that anything Rita was going to say would wake them up enough, but he envied those that could fall so soundly asleep they needed such things to wake them. He hadn't felt tired since Seamus had fallen though the rift in the ground, and he doubted he'd ever feel tired again.

The group quieted as they all leaned in to hear what Rita was going to say, "-been quite awhile since the game-makers threw a arena wide challenge in, wouldn't you say, Roger?"

"Roger Davies?" Fred said, and then cussed, " Didn't take him for a rat."

"Oh, yes, but we space them out very specifically. While it might satisfy the challenge to throw everything at them at once and kill them from lack of time to prepare, it's much more fun to get them when they don't expect it, when the majority of the arena has been quiet for some time. I think a few expect something, though."

"Surely." Rita laughed, "I don't think someone like Draco or Hermione would be surprised, at least. Can you tell us a bit about what's coming today?"

"Usually, I'd say my lips are sealed, but we got information from the big guy that all communication into the games- packages or notes- will be stilled for the next twenty-four hours, so no one can give anything away to the contestants."

"Why tell us now? Usually we just find out the punches with the rest of our valiant tributes."

Dean tried to imagine the Ravenclaw from years above him, now working as a Game Maker, but couldn't see his face. Fred, though, looked livid, gritting his teeth in fury. "Something different." Roger said simply.

"Oh, dear." Mrs. Weasley murmured, looking up. Anything that they were shutting communication down for was something bad. Even worse, if anyone was injured, no one could send help down. There were many easily curable things that if not treated could be fatal within 24 hours. Perhaps this is what they wanted; to cull the crowd a little. They were almost two weeks in and still half of the contestants still remained.

Dean didn't know if it was just a talented group, or something else, but it was agony for him. He almost wished it would finish quicker, so that Seamus could have his burial sooner. All bodies were released to the families after the games ended.

"I have to say, I'm a little surprised Voldemort went for this idea," Roger began to say excitedly, "Since it has it's roots in a muggle idea."

"You don't say," Rita exclaimed, "Well, now I must know!"

"It was mine; I'm a half-blood. It was my first big break in the control room, and I'm so excited to see it be put into motion. We've been modifying it for eons it seems, since before the games began. What's coming is no simple fix."

"Anything modified is terrifying, I think we can all agree." Rita said, speaking to the people listening, and Dean held his breath.

"Anyway, I used to go to these Muggle haunted Houses as a child. Obviously they do their best, but if we ran it, we'd terrify the poor saps. I was a kid when I went, before Hogwarts. As scary as it is, all the actors can't touch you there. Nothing's real and you're never in any real danger, as much as it seems to play into your worst fears. Sometimes, though, when you get older these houses evolved to where they actually could touch you, where your fears were brought into a palpable sense of reality. I went to one after graduating Hogwarts; it was awful!" He laughed.

"So, what I sense, is you've taken something usually harmless and made it not so?" Rita asked.

"Exactly," Roger said.

"What?" Ginny mouthed across the table, her face turning pale. Dean shrugged back at her, unable to imagine what they were talking about.

"Boggarts may scare the shit out of you, but they can't actually hurt you, and often one can sort of see that. As third years, everyone's taught to banish them away, but even if you didn't, if you walked through them, they'd be just like gas. Even if you didn't, I think we all recall our lessons, and having the feeling in the back of our mind telling us 'it's okay; this isn't real, ' even if you felt you were going to crap your pants. It's human survival, sensing magic and reacting."

"I remember my third year," Rita crooned in, "It was a little surreal, especially because my fear was clowns, and as you said, the most logical part of me knew that a clown this big couldn't be in the room. Even on the exam, I did know."

"We've been working very hard to take these boggarts, and turn it up to the next level, if you will. These boggarts will take your deepest fears, as it's original does, but in this case, you won't be able to tell difference from reality. These also, if you don't figure out in time it's a boggart, could kill you. They're noting to mess with! I'm terrified of them myself. No one in the control room wants to be on the hovercraft to release them. We had a guy from our team test them; even though he knew he was walking into our Boggart 2.0, that logical part was clicked off. He's in St. Mungo's right now." Roger seemed a little sheepish.

"When will these nasty little things be released?" Rita purred, "It sounds like it will make a most interesting day!"

"We hope so; our cameras have been modified to see what our contestants see. It wouldn't be quite as fun to just see them screaming into nothingness." Roger pointed out, "It should go in…" Roger paused, "An hour or so."

"Well, thank you very much for this late night interview! I hope everyone's that watching has learned something, and is thoroughly excited for-,"

"Damn." Bill growled, shutting off the radio.

"What are Ron's biggest fears? Still spiders?" Ginny asked, looking around, "Or Hermione's? I knew it was failing when she was in Hogwarts, but it's been a long time since they've had to worry about such trivial things." She whispered.

"Ron's still might be; did you see him run like the dickens when those spiders first appeared?" Terry said, "But Hermione…" He scowled, "I don't know."

Fred was out the door.

"Where are you going?" Mr. Weasley called.

"To meet with McGonagall! There has to be some way to get around the communication rule!" He called as he vanished away.

"Somehow…" Neville whispered, swallowing thickly, "I feel as though I'm not going to like today."

"I know." Ginny visibly winced, "Death by boggart. It seems impossible. It seems awful."

THEGREENGAMES

Hermione, at around 4 AM, was doing the impossible. Sleeping.

Mostly, it was thanks to a sleeping potion Draco had made with what he had, otherwise Hermione doubted she'd ever fall asleep again. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Seamus, smiling on the backs of her eyelids. It was almost worst than seeing him dead. Seeing flashes of him alive made her crave something she could never have.

She also wanted to run off and find Hannah, despite both Colin and Draco telling her she was in no form to do so. Any of her wounds could re-open with too much tension, and that would be awful for her. Draco wasn't up to trailing around her to be there if it did, and Colin's puppy-dog eyes convinced her to stay solidly put.

Unfortunately.

She'd had Draco re-tell the story of finding and saving Hannah three times at this point, going over every detail he could retain, anything to tell her where she might be now, and why she hadn't seen her at all since then. There was only one part Draco was suspiciously silent about, and it was the wounds she retained. Hermione had a feeling he was feeling guilty about it somehow, but at this rate she'd never find Hannah and she'd never know what was wrong.

Finally, Draco had grown tired of her interrogation of him, and insisted she take a sleeping draught. They all needed sleep, her more than most. He was so infuriatingly helpful.

Hermione had agreed to take the sleeping potion if Colin slept with her on her bed. She felt bad for taking the comfiest place, first off, but also he was just going to hunker down on the ground. True, he had sleeping bags, since after hearing about the cave and everything had gone back and retrieved her and Seamus' items, but those were not comfortable at all. Draco had already claimed the second cot, and Hermione had pressured Colin into sleeping next to her.

Not in a sexual way, of course, but just in a comforting way. After everything, Hermione needed that feeling of another human next to her. She didn't know how she could do anything alone after these past couple days. It seemed impossible she'd ever enjoyed her solitude.

Colin took over the side nearest the entrance, his arms and limbs hanging over the sides of the bed. Hermione was pressed up against the wall, but her nose rested almost at the nape of his neck.

They'd never much interacted at Hogwarts. He'd always been Harry's biggest fan, Harry's stalker. He'd taken a slight interest in Hermione too, merely because of her connection to Harry, but she'd always been relieved he preferred her friend to her. She would have hexed him sooner than Harry would have.

Then, after Harry died, Colin withdrew into himself. It was awful to loose an idol, to realize that your superman isn't actual immortal. It's like growing up and realizing your parents aren't perfect. It changes people. He'd grown up under the radar, and when his name was called, Hermione realized she'd forgotten he existed for a short moment. So no, they didn't exactly talk back home.

But even in her sleep, she smiled, for she would later realize he smelled like the Gryffindor common room, even still. It was though the scent clung to his essence, choosing this human vessel to remain with the rest of his life, and made Hermione at ease. Her dreams couldn't be terrible when it reminded her so fondly of writing parchments near the fire, with Fred and George testing some new product behind her, or Ron flipping anxiously through a textbook when the answer was right under his nose, or watching Harry loose himself in the enjoyment, for a moment forgetting the tremendous stress he was always under. Yes, Hermione's dreams were nothing if not completely enjoyable.

This dream was abruptly woken by a blood-curling screech that sounded inhuman.

Colin fell off the cot, and Hermione tensed up in fear. Draco sprung fro his bed, waving his hand across the glossy sheen of the protective bubble, and making it translucent.

"I don't see anything." Colin said, straining his eyes, and Draco lit a fire on a stick with a snap of his fingers.

"It sounded farther away from here." Draco said, frowning, "Whatever it is, I doubt it will get through here." He waved a hand.

Colin looked back, frowning. "You okay, Hermione?"

Hermione was scared stiff. She was angry that she was so afraid, when these two boys seemed mostly unaffected by the noise, but she didn't want to admit it froze her to the core. The sound was so…unreal. It was the worst thing she'd ever heard.

"Fine." She snapped, forcing her to sit up, "What in the world was that?"

"Sounded like someone screaming."

"Someone?" Hermione scoffed, "More like something…"

"No, I think it was a person." Draco exchanged wary looks with Colin, "We'd better stay put."

"What if it was Elizabeth? Or Hannah?" Hermione demanded, trying to swing her legs around.

"Whoa, calm down." Colin said, pushing her back, "We couldn't help them even if we wanted to. They might be miles away, for all we know."

"No cannons yet," Draco added, oddly willing to sooth her fears.

"There still might be." Hermione argued, scowling at the boys, "You can't force me to stay!"

"I'm a doctor, so I technically can, if I feel like the patient isn't fit for moving." Draco said smoothly, "And you're not."

"I don't remember agreeing to be your patient." Hermione scowled.

"Salazar, I bloody saved your life, witch! I'd say that's a good enough indication." He said.

"Hey," Colin drew a hand down his face, "It's too early in the morning for you to go at it." He said, and Draco quieted, but glared, "What now?"

Hermione realized with a curious turn of her head that he hadn't looked to Hermione, despite being on bed rest (apparently), but to Draco. As if it wasn't even a question that Draco was in charge, and Colin so obviously trusted him. When did this happen?

"I don't think we should all sleep. We don't know what's out there. I'm confident in my wand work, but you never know. Hopefully father will inform me what's happening soon."

Hermione was tempted to make a snide comment about his father and being a daddy's boy, but her temptation withdrew when she realized she was just as curious and wished she had someone with enough money on the outside to tell her everything that happened. Draco was lucky.

"You should stay up first Colin. I'll go next, switching off until we know more." He said, a definitive plan, one Hermione was left out of.

"What about me?" She questioned.

"You'll sleep. You'd be useless if anything came our way anyway." He said.

"I resent that implication, Malfoy!" She said hotly.

"It wasn't an implication. It was a fact. You died Hermione. Even if you hadn't, your body sustained multiple injuries, and you lost a ton of blood. Every time you try to sit up, you get woozy. You need to heal before you go Gryffindor Gallivanting."

"Before I what?"

"You know, go off saving a poor rabbit or something from a fox. Heroic stuff." Draco said with a scoff, "Go to sleep. The potion will kick back in; it's meant to give you at least eight full hours of sleep, if not more."

Hermione wasn't tired at all. She was now too afraid for Colin and for her friends outside the bubble, but she was weary from fighting with Malfoy. Why did it seem like he was always picking a fight?

"Fine." She pretended to yawn, lying down. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, continuing the act until she had both the boys fooled. She wasn't going to sleep, so she might as well protect them without invoking their ire. She still had some wandless magic; albeit not as powerful, ever since her most magical hand was crushed. She could hardly even feel it now, still numbed as the bones attempted to reset. But that didn't mean she couldn't summon something from her other hand, not if she really was trying.

"You good, Creevy?" Draco questioned a little after, "To watch?"

"Yeah. Don't know how you could sleep after a sound like that." Colin's whole voice shook. Hermione was grateful to hear she wasn't the only one afraid.

"I can't. But I have to." Draco gave a long sigh, "I need to be able to protect you, protect…Hermione." There was gentleness in his voice Hermione was unaccustomed to. Wanting to protect two Gryffindors was not Slytherin normal. He sounded even less enthusiastic to protect her, though. Granted, it seemed as though Colin and Draco had been together bit longer, but still, she was shocked at it nevertheless.

"So you made your choice."

"I couldn't let her die." Draco said firmly, "As much as maybe I thought about it. For merely a moment." He whispered, "Blaise would hate me." He added emotionlessly.

It took Hermione a couple moments to connect the dots. Draco somehow knew she had killed Blaise, his former best friend. Of course he hated her! He had no idea she hadn't been fully herself. He, who as she'd learned didn't want to kill anyone as it was, must see Hermione as a monster for killing him. It was like learning Oliver had a hand in killing Harry. As much as she wanted to believe he was a good person, she still saw him as a murderer, even in part for what he did, what he took away from her.

She wanted to jump in, explain things to Draco right then and there. She wasn't even sure if it was to clear her conscious and her name, or to fix the seam that had opened hearing how lowly Draco seemed to think of her. For a reason she couldn't imagine, it made her whole body feel tight and heavy, disappointed almost. She opened her mouth to say something.

Then again, this wasn't a conversation to have with Colin awake here. She would wait until he was on watch alone. Then she'd tell him. He deserved the whole truth. If he still hated her after knowing everything, she might understand.

THEGREENGAMES

Hannah, as a general rule since going on her own, didn't trust nights. It had been nine- well technically eight- day since 'it' had happened, and she hated how skeptical she'd become.

Running into Draco had been purely a coincidence. If she hadn't lost so much blood and was already not thinking straight, she'd likely never have let him touch her. Even alive, she wasn't sure she trusted him. He'd really done a bang-up job of saving all of her, she thought with a sarcastic scoff.

She'd wanted to get as far away from him and Pansy and the other two as possible.

She knew, back to those nine days ago, that Ernie was for sure dead, and Hermione was for sure alive, as was Elizabeth. Draco had saved both of them, which was practically the only reason she'd let him save her, even as confused as she'd been. She was proud to say that she remembered everything, and she'd been somewhat with it, as compared to totally not with it.

It had been hard, living alone, surviving alone. She'd stumbled upon Tracy's camp three days into her solitude, and realized after watching the girl's camp closely for a day that this Slytherin had no intention of moving. Someone up there really loved her, because she got enough food to keep her alive, and then some. Hannah would sneak in when she left; take what she needed, and sneak back out. So far, the person on her side in the real world hadn't told Tracy about her thief, and she was going to milk this as long as she could.

Currently, she'd seen Tracy get a pound of meat. Tracy had been smart enough to cook all of it and dry it into jerky strips, and Hannah's mouth salivated at the smell as she inched closer. She usually was careful not to steal meat, because she figured Tracy would be most likely to notice it gone, rather than a handful of almonds or one granola bar. But here there was twenty-eight beautiful red strips hanging out; she couldn't possibly miss three or four, would she?

Hannah reached up with her left fingers, on her tiptoes, straining to grab the ends of the food. Tracy was a good half-a-foot taller than Hannah, and she'd strung these meats up far as she could.

Hannah to be glad she was only a semi-experienced spell-caster. She'd cast a protective bubble around it, to keep animals away from nibbling on her gift, but the specifications only were that a human could reach through. Tracy, luckily, wasn't proficient enough to tailor the spell to her own fingertips. This made it tantalizingly tempting to take more, because Tracy wouldn't think that another person took it, but Hannah had no ill will toward Tracy.

The only thing that she distained between them, actually, was her house. Since they weren't opposing blood-types, she had no need to feel threatened by her. And even though she was a Slytherin, she'd never portrayed any malice toward Hannah at Hogwarts or here. She'd been…almost Hufflepuff like.

Hannah had heard the whispers that this was one of those times the sorting hat got it all wrong, because Tracy wasn't cut out for being a Slytherin at all. Hannah, after observing her for the past week, could believe it. More than once, she was tempted to go out and offer an alliance, since it took so much energy to keep herself alive as it was, currently, but she feared Tracy would realize Hannah had been nicking her food all along, and it wouldn't last long.

She gave one look back at Tracy's sleeping figure; jerky sticks clutched in her palm, and scurried away.

Tracy didn't even know it, but Hannah so owed her.

Once she made it back to her own little lean-to that she preferred more and more each day, she tore into the jerky like a starving animal. The last good protein she'd had she'd caught herself, but it was only a mouse, and it was almost five days ago. She'd been sustaining herself on berries in the forest and taking things from Tracy, growing bolder and bolder as her hunger intensified. She almost ate them all, but forced herself to tuck two away for a rainy day (a hungrier day). She always knew in the back of her mind that one day Tracy might pack up and leave, and then where would Hannah be? Would she really go as far as to stalk Tracy?

On one hand, this was her primary food source…

She shook her head. That was stooping to a level of desperate she didn't like thinking about. She attempted to convince herself she was using Tracy now merely because it was logical. They were in the same general area, and this is where Hannah's shelter was.

After the terrifying incident against 'them' (she couldn't even think their names, after that they did to her…to Ernie…) she'd decided perhaps he best tactic was to stay low, out of the drama. With any luck, the rest of the half-bloods would kill each other off, leaving her to take the win. Her biggest competitor was Pansy, but so many people hated her, that Hannah couldn't see her winning at all.

She had just tucked the jerky into a napkin in the depths of her jacket when the bushes rustled; unlike the way animals brushed it. Living alone had toughened her skin; she no longer jumped when a rabbit scurried across the undergrowth, or a deer make the bushes quiver. In fact, she'd become quite used to the natural sounds of the forest. But this…this was no natural sound.

She got up, grabbing her knife awkwardly in her left hand. Adjusting to holding things with her non-dominant hand had been one of the worst things to get used to, but clutching the knife tightly made her more sure. She could still stab someone to death, if need be.

"Whose there?" She asked firmly, stepping a little out of her lean-to. She hadn't been able to cast any protection spells over it, so it was useless to cower inside of it. A flutter of hope lighted in her chest; maybe it would be Hermione! She hoped desperately her friend was still alive; but with all the cannons recently, she couldn't be sure of anything.

Two shadowy figures stepped out from the bushes, and Hannah's knife clattered to the ground.

Corner gave a wolfish grin at Blaise, and their expressions of murder sent her heart racing.

"Look who it is? What did I tell you before, Blaise?" He asked, taking out a switchblade from his pocket.

"That you always finish what you start?" Blaise chuckled darkly, looking Hannah up and down as though she was a piece of meat.

"Ten points to Slytherin."

Hannah turned sharply, and took off running. She didn't know how they'd found her, or why now, or if they were alone, but she was not going to fall under their torture again! Tears blubbered down her cheeks as she pelted through the forest, dodging trees and trying not to run into anything in the dark, keeping aware of them behind her.

All of a sudden, too quickly, Blaise appeared like a demon in front of her. She cried out, turning around, but found Corner on her other side. She was trapped momentarily, before she took a mad spring to her left over a shrub.

Blaise caught her leg, and she was brought back down to the forest floor. The wind was knocked from her chest as her chin slammed against the forest floor. She spun around, contorting her body in time to see Corner dragging the knife across her leg.

Hannah let out a scream that almost didn't sound human.

THEGREENGAMES

When Hannah screamed, almost everyone heard it. Pike and Corner nearly jumped out of their skin, throwing weapons out into the dark night, and pressing their backs to each other in an effort to keep eyes everywhere. Pansy woke, and Pike saw the fear flash across her face before she absolved it, scoffing at their position.

"That was far away from us. Whatever it is, it's not here." She said languidly as she stretched, scoffing lightly.

"Oh, yeah?" Corner demanded anxiously, "How would you know? Maybe there's more than one!"

"Mhh." Pansy hummed, unconvinced, and began digging through her knapsack, "Merlin, is this all the food we have left?" She demanded, dumping out two day's worth of rations in the dust.

"Lost pieces along the way, ate a lot, I don't know…" Pike shrugged, avoiding her cutting glare.

"Well, I suppose one of you will have to hunt tomorrow." She said, sighing, "It's not killing others, but it's killing something." She added, catching an edge of Pike's gaze. He grumbled.

Corner came over to a rock perfect height for sitting, and dug his knife into the ground. "Can I take this?" He asked Pansy, holding up a chocolate energy bar.

"Fine." Pansy sighed, "I'm not a huge fan of chocolate to begin with." She added with a sniff, choosing a package of nuts for herself.

Pike paced uneasily. He didn't believe that whatever that thing was hunted far away. Something that could have caused such an awful sound…he couldn't trust it to be thrown away on a singular person. If he knew how the games worked at all, it would be used on more than one. Why shouldn't it be them? Corner and Pansy nibbled away, unconcerned. They discussed stupid things, like Hogwarts, something Pike could hardly be privy too. He didn't much like the feel of the castle. Durmstrang would always be home for him.

He had to be pacing for nearly an hour while Pansy ignored his worries. Finally, his ears caught something he hoped they didn't.

"Shush!" He said sharply, glaring at his comrades, "Did you hear that?"

"If there was anything to hear, you were talking." Pansy pointed out, but shakily stood. She still looked weary from her wounds, but she'd had nearly a whole day to recover from them. She was nothing if not full of endurance.

Corner came to stand on one side, and Pansy on the other, and the three of them stood shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the treeline. There was a whispering that wasn't the wind, something almost not human, like an eerie lullaby. The words were indecipherable, but soon Pike could hear a hiss curling through the trees. It was the most terrifying moment, between night and day; those precarious moments when you feared the sun might never rise again.

Everything about the current situation set his body on edge, and sent shivers up his spine that raised the hair on the back of his skin at attention.

Something lurked and curled and Pike felt his heart race. The hissing continued, and he saw a large shape slither down a tree into the tall grass that surrounded the rocky clearing, and that's when Pike shattered. He ran, grabbing his sword from the ground, and then continued running like hell in the opposite direction of those damn snakes.

He heard Corner and Pansy yelling for him, following him, but he couldn't find the urge to care if they found him cowardly. Give him spiders, give him wolves, and give him a bloody dragon to fight off but give him snakes? He was gone.

These snakes weren't merely cute little garden snakes his younger sister pestered him with, insisting his fear was irrational; these were boas and anacondas and cobras and every monster snake the evilness of the world ever created.

Pike had no doubt they were also fatally venomous.

Everything Pike had learned at Durmstrang about keeping oneself in check while dealing with a fear flew right out the window. Suddenly, he wasn't sure if he'd survive this. This was the first time he'd questioned his own morality in the games, and he had to say, he wasn't sure he liked where it brought him.

THEGREENGAMES

"What the hell is Pike running from?" Corner shielded his eyes, staring through the gathering fog, "There's noting bloody there!"

Pansy glanced uncertainty at the fog, "Perhaps it causes hallucinations." She murmured, and ducked out of the way of it, "Try not to inhale." She said louder, and Corner's whole body stiffened, realizing the meaning of her words.

"Shit! I don't want to see what he saw. He looked terrified." Corner shuddered slightly, following Pansy to where the fog hadn't yet gathered.

"Grab the stuff." Pansy said.

"But Pike-,"

"Hopefully can deal with whatever he's not seeing. We need to get away from this." She said forcefully, and Corner complied without a word. Pansy anxiously watched the fog trickle in, although it looked no different than the fog that would occur on a breezy October day at Hogwarts. She knew better than to be so easily fooled, though, it could be anything.

"It's not over here." Pansy said, nodding in the opposite direction of where Pike had vanished into, "Let's hurry, okay?"

Corner nodded, and they grabbed their things, abandoning the camp and setting off at a low jog.

There was giggling in the forest. Pansy stopped, frowning.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Corner stopped too, "The wind?"

"No, no. Laughter."

Corner eased uneasily on his feet. "The fog is all the way back there. It hasn't even traveled into the forest, Pansy." He said, and Pansy felt her face redden.

"Well, clearly, you're deaf then!" She snapped. He was right; the fog hadn't breached where they'd gone. It seemed to consolidate in the clearing, and didn't pass the barrier of the forest.

Pansy crept forward, and it came again. She turned back to ask Corner something but found him staring at the ground in horror.

"Corner?" She asked, but he didn't budge, "Michael!" She snapped, and his eyes snapped up, breathing irregular.

Before she could say anything else, his eyes saw something past her, and he took off running. Pansy swung around and saw…a big fat nothing.

"Idiot." She muttered angrily. Maybe only boys were affected or something, or maybe the fog spoke to the inner stupidity inside people- something Pansy obviously wouldn't be scared by, since she so far saw nothing terrifying. Let Pike and Corner run.

She decided to follow the laughter. Best-case scenario, it might lead her to Elizabeth or something, and she'd get to kill someone. She had a bit of frustration to take out anyway.

She took out a machete, swinging through the undergrowth, to find…

"Mom?" She asked, the machete dropping to the ground, "Mrs. Malfoy?"

The two women turned on their chairs, pausing their gossiping to size up Pansy. They were seated at a small tea table with finger cakes and English breakfast tea in tiny saucers between them. It seemed surreal, the image of them in their expensive gowns in the middle of the forest.

"Pansy," Mrs. Parkinson's lips pulled down into a deep frown, "You look as though you've been romping with a mud monster." She said distastefully.

"How are you here?" Pansy asked, her arms coming to her shoulders subconsciously, "You can't be."

"Dear, money can get you nearly anywhere. Even the Green Games." Mrs. Malfoy tutted, waving a gloved hand, "Come sit."

She stumbled forward uneasily, but her mother pinched her elbow before she got far. "When was the last time you bathed yourself, young lady?"

"Mom." Pansy bit her teeth, trying not to let her voice quiver, "I'm participating in the Green Games. I don't think-,"

"What have I told you time and time again? How you present yourself is the most important thing. That girl Elizabeth still looks decent. It wouldn't kill you to run a finger through that rat's nest of yours every once and awhile, you know." She said, "And Merlin, I think you've gained weight!" Pansy felt every criticism like sharp blow to the face. She tried not to wince.

"Mother, I think there's more important things to think about. Aren't you glad I'm still alive?" She prompted.

Her mother huffed, "I'd be more glad if you didn't look like a cross between a Sasquatch and a tree! Don't you agree, Cissa?"

Cissa sipped her tea, "You look dreadful, my dear. How do you ever expect to get a husband looking like that?"

"I think winning will be enough, you know." Pansy slumped low in the empty chair provided, "That I can do other things than just be a housewife."

The women looked at each other and burst into raucous laughter, "What an ignorant thing to say." Pansy's mother spit unkindly, shaking her head.

"Indeed!" Cissa grabbed Pansy's hand, "See the cuticles? Dreadful!"

Pansy snapped her hand away. "I was going to…marry Draco. After we won. Voldemort sees winners highly." Pansy's voice shrunk with each statement as the two women glared her down. When she finished speaking, both women just stared at her.

"You?" Mrs. Malfoy recoiled, "Marry my son? What a preposterous idea. You've never been good enough, and you'll never be good enough! You'll be lucky to marry a muggle-born at this point, you dirty half-breed."

Pansy's shoulder quivered, and she felt tears on the edges of her eyes, "No! You're wrong. I'm good enough. I'm feared, praised!" She cried, gripping the edges of the table, "I'm terrifying!" Pansy felt the darkness creeping into her bones like it often did, now occurring more frequently and more out of her control, but she hoped the lengthening shadows scared her mother and Narcissa.

They didn't even seem to blink, just looked around.

"Childish." Narcissa sniffed.

"Inadequate." Mrs. Parkinson agreed.

"No!" Pansy stood, slamming her hands with an extended force upon the table, so much that half of the china shattered on the ground, "I am worthy! I'm a force to be reckoned with! I'm worth more than he is!" She said, and her hands glowed with dangerous heat that burned through the tablecloth and scorned the wood.

She leapt forward, not sure what she intended to do, but made a grab at her mother…but found her vanished, fluid like wisp of air. She spun around, and saw her mother and Narcissa now standing a yard away, staring at her with darkened, displeasured eyes.

"Come back!" Pansy cried, leaping at them, but they were once again just out of her reach, "Come back…" Her voice broke, and Pansy fell to the forest, her fingers digging into her scalp, "I'm good enough." She whispered to the dark shadows, eyes widening in a sort of unreachable madness, "I am…"

Pansy laughed to the empty air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since writing last chapter, I've watched and caught up to every episode in How to Get Away with Murder. It's so weird seeing Dean as the main character! I've decided he was horribly under-utilized in the HP series. In my headcannon, maybe after the war, Dean moves to America and goes to Law school...and changes his name. The ages would fit! Anywho, that was partially my inspiration for having another 'back at home' feature, but also to explain the problems in these two upcoming chapters. These aren't just boggarts, these are really bad ones.
> 
> I ended up, between these two, doing everyone's boggart. With so few people, it was far too tempting not to. Some aren't as obvious as others... I'll give you a cookie if you can guess (so far) what the boggarts are! Pansy's is likely the most difficult ones. There's a few more weird ones next chapter too.
> 
> Please review, make an author's day :)


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it thanksgiving yet? I want it to be. College assignments are killing me. I just want to sleep, eat, and go to the Packer's game...
> 
> In other news, you have no idea how excited I was to get this chapter out! first off, boggarts, which is always fun, and secondly a helluva lot more Dramione than originally planned. A realization, if you will, worked out to happen in this chapter, much sooner than I thought I'd put it in. But my muse insisted ;) I doubt y'all will be complaining...

Corner had only dealt with this kind of terror years ago; when he was a child. It was the same terror, he knew, which made it all the worse.

He had been only eight. His older, cooler cousin had convinced him that if he wanted to ever be 'cool' like he was, he should sneak out with him during the boring family reunion. Besides, they were supposed to be upstairs watching the telly anyway, while all the boring adults did adult things.

Connor was really awesome, and his best friend- Jackson- who had come to the family reunion too, told Corner that if he did this, tomorrow they'd let him hang around with him.

It was too good of a promise to pass up.

So, just after midnight, Jack shoved the old window open from the rusty way it had settled into, and the three boys shimmied down the terrace and onto the wide expanse of the farmhouses' front yard. Michael ignored Cara (his other cousin, his age's) pitiful cries about how he was going to get in trouble. She was just jealous they didn't invite her anyway.

Connor took them to a junkyard near the old family farm, with a decaying barn and a high fence around it. He flipped up a part of the wire that had eroded away, staring down at Corner's face with a cold frown.

"You're not scared," He'd taunted, "It's un-cool to be scared."

Corner shoved himself under the wire, muddying his nice clothes.

"We come here all the time." Jackson said, "You can find the coolest shit here."

Corner was amazed he had just sworn so casually; they truly must be the epitome of cool! He was rather engrossed, watching the boys that were four years his senior tossing ugly, dirty hats at each other and laughing as they sorted through the junk.

"Hey Mickey," Connor called, a sort of devilish grin on his face, "I think you should go into the barn. They say it's haunted."

"But it's falling apart."

"So?" Jackson scoffed, "If you really were like us, you'd just go."

"I don't know..."

"Whatever." Connor shoved him out of his way, "Run back and go hide under your covers. You don't have to, but at least we know you're a chicken."

Corner, seething with indignation, ran up to the barn. He couldn't see anything inside, and it frightened him. But when he turned around, both boys made a 'go on' motion, and they seemed so pleased with him.

He got three steps into the main part before the wood cracked and fell beneath his feet. He feel through the floor to the basement, and landed with a cracking sound beneath. He raised his hands and saw blood dripping down, and when he touched his head, he seemed to be bleeding even more.

He blubbered, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this. It wasn't too bad in that moment, being in the basement of the barn. It was when his eyes adjusted the horror started.

He looked up and saw a thousand glowing eyes peering at him from underneath dusty boards and piles of decaying hay.

Corner let out a whimper, and they all darted forward.

A sea of wiggling rat bodies seemed to wash over him, all jolted by the movement of the next. Their teeth and claws climbed over his body, and Corner screamed, startling them all more.

It was likely only moments that the rats accosted him, but to his eight-year-old mind, it seemed like a thousand. He didn't even remember the after part, when they were all gone, other than he could still see their glinting eyes as he cried until his father rescued him, screaming at his cousin.

He'd broken his leg and was cut in multiple places. He had to go get a nasty rabies shot, and for months after, he would wake up screaming for his dreams were just rats as far as his sight could see, all moving and squeaking and never out of his head.

Connor and Jackson were punished heavily, but Corner couldn't help but feel that it wasn't going to be enough. They were truly sorry, they weren't monsters of course, but how was revoked privileges ever going to compare to the horror Michael experienced over and over? The broken leg he'd have to waddle around on for a year, while other children played tag and he was stuck inside? The way his whole body trembled even years into Hogwarts when he even thought he saw a rat?

It wasn't good enough.

His first year into Hogwarts, he acquired a book on darker subjects from another fellow Ravenclaw who should have been in Slytherin like Corner. Michael had been a hat stall; almost Slytherin. It was only Cara that kept him away from it; she'd read him books on everything in his grandmother's library while he was on his broken leg and healing, and therefore the thought of just pure learning (The books themselves, dry, but Grandma was old) was such a happy memory.

It wasn't enough to keep him from going back that summer and cursing Jackson and Connor's nightmares with rats like his, so real that they both woke up screaming. They'd have those nightmares every year, every time they forgot what they'd done to him.

It was also the fist time he'd meet the Ministry of Magic, but it was a small price to pay for the revenge, the joy of it, for his cousin getting what he deserved.

But it didn't help Corner...he was still terrified of rats.

And a whole tidal wave, scurrying as one through the undergrowth, greeted him.

"Please, no. Not again..." He whimpered, trying to climb a tree, but finding every tree in the area to have a first branch high above his reach.

A rat jumped on his leg, biting through his clothes. And then another. And another.

Corner fell to the ground, rolling on them as they nibbled and clawed at his skin. They bit at his flesh like it was a delicacy, and every horror story of rats eating people entered his mind like an unwelcome pest. He became frantic.

He ranked his fingers down his arms, trying to shake them off. His efforts became more and more violent as the rats did, and he saw the blood drizzle down his arms, but they didn't stop.

Corner was eight again, but this time it was so much worse.

THEGREENGAMES

"Caligula!" Mandy cried, backing up. They had the worst damn luck, didn't they? Not twenty minutes ago Caligula had gone to get water for the pair of them, and since then, the air had cooled and fog had rolled in. They'd heard the awful scream early this morning, and both had gone in the opposite direction of it. Both thought of the worst things it could be that caused such a sound, but Mandy would have never guessed what she was seeing now.

A group of rabid dogs surrounded her, eyes flashing and foam gathering around their lips as they bit and snapped at her. She felt her whole body freeze up. This was something out of her worst nightmare. She pressed herself up the bark of tree, whimpering slightly.

Her cold fingers fumbled around the only weapon she had, a short dagger she used mainly to cleave the fur away from the meat of her kills. She doubted it would do much against these beasts, nearly her size as it were.

One lunged forward, and Mandy cried, slashing forward. It caught the dog on the pelt, and it growled as a stream of crimson liquid trickled down its matted fur. Another pranced around her left, and she swung around.

"Cal!" She cried again, her throat rough from crying and yelling. How did he not hear this? Worse...was he fighting these dogs too, "Help!" She cried again, although her faith was slipping.

The dogs growled, circling around her, and Mandy's eyes flashed above her, to where a tree branch was just in her reach, that could lead her up there. She hadn't climbed a tree since she was young, but she had to try.

She looked back at the dogs, once confident in slight they weren't going to move in the millisecond it took, she jumped up, both her palms wrapping around the hard bark. She pulled her torso up, and one of the dogs leaped, catching the edge of her ankle and biting hard.

The pain was like fire. As it fell back down to the ground, the teeth tore through her flesh, almost grinning with human-like glee at Mandy's horrified expression. With one leg basically useless, she pushed herself up the tree on upper-body strength alone, her left leg dangling like a dead weight.

She whimpered in pain every inch up, but forced herself high above the yapping dogs below her. She looked at her leg, torn and sinewy, and felt hot tears blubber of her cheeks. Her fingers shook above it, terrified to touch.

It hurt like nothing else she'd ever felt, and she saw the white of the bone shining through the jagged bite.

She withheld a shaky cry. She'd been bit; she had rabies now, that's how it worked? Her death was going to be agonizing and painful and drawn out, just like how she watched her older brother die before her eyes, after they didn't tell mom about that bat who scratched him.

"Cameron," She muttered, looking up, giving a small scoff, "Two of us...eh?"

She swallowed thickly, looking down at the dogs still clawing and snarling at the tree. Now...she just needed not to fall asleep...then again, she found it difficult to imagine she could. She was still terrified.

THEGREENGAMES

"There are more screams." Elizabeth shivered despite it wasn't all that cold out.

"It's not here." Ron muttered.

"What if it does."

Ron didn't answer, but his lip twitched downward and he gave a careless shrug. Elizabeth didn't know what had prompted his surly attitude lately, but everything she said seemed to irritate him. She tried not to talk often; despite she wanted to get to the bottom of his attitude.

She twiddled her thumbs, sighing. There was still blood from Luna's death underneath her fingernails, far beyond where she could scrub out. She hated seeing it, but it was sunk far under her cuticles, a constant reminder.

She missed Luna so much. She wasn't sure how to go on without her, without Hermione still. The two people she'd looked up to were pretty much gone, leaving her than a person who clearly saw her as a child in need of babysitting.

"Would you prefer I leave?" She asked in a moment of courage, and Ron's head snapped around.

"What?"

"You don't want me around, do you? I mean, I'll be fine." She got up, grabbing her bag, fully ready to walk away from Ron. She didn't want to be anyone's burden.

"Don't do that." Ron seemed just as annoyed with this suggestion as everything else she said, "Just...stay."

"I'll be okay, Ron." She said insistently.

"Do you hear those screams?" Ron grabbed her arm, "You can leave, whatever, but not now. We don't know what's out there and it's better to face it together." He said.

"So you do care about me, some level." She murmured, more to herself, but Ron still heard. He scowled, dropping her arm.

"Something like that. It's complicated." He said, pacing himself away from her.

"Uncomplicated it. What's going on?" Elizabeth asked. Ron chuckled darkly, but shook his head.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He asked, and then said nothing more on the subject. Elizabeth was about to throw up her hands in defeat. She was just as far away from understanding than when she began. Ron was the most infuriating person she knew, and that included Draco Malfoy. It was difficult in times like these to imagine what Luna saw in him, but she had to remind herself they were under so much stress that it made people different.

They sat on different sides of the clearing. Elizabeth didn't try to push the matter further. She was slightly grateful Ron hadn't let her leave; she didn't really want to leave during whatever was going on. She wasn't confident she'd survive it...but would that truly be the worst thing?

She wanted to tell Ron her dirtiest secret; that if she didn't survive, it would be okay. But she hadn't told anyone, and she wasn't going to involved Ron in something so personal, not when he seemed to hate her for some reason she wasn't aware of.

The only person that knew was her brother.

"Elizabeth..."

It was the softest whisper, and Elizabeth jolted up. It was her brother's voice, undeniably, and it was in pain. It was the sound he'd made when he'd fallen and broken his arm two years ago, the almost evanescent sound of hurt.

She looked around wildly.

"What?" Ron asked, seeing her movement.

"They wouldn't...no...." Elizabeth hissed to herself. She stood, and heard it again, louder and more pronounced.

"They wouldn't what?" Ron asked louder, eyebrows rising, "What are you talking about?"

She heard sobbing. She looked at Ron, and she ran off into the forest as he grabbed forward to stop her.

"Andrew!" She cried, ignoring Ron's confused yells. He didn't hear it like she had, likely. He'd never understand! She had to find her brother.

"Elizabeth..." The sound was to her left. She turned and saw her brother suspended in the air, arrows through his body. She rushed forward, but was bounced back by a force field. Blood dripped onto the forest floor from her brother's body.

"No!" She yelled, pounding on the invisible shield that burned her palms, "I'm the tribute, not him!" How dare they? She knew Voldemort wasn't right in the head, but this was her brother. It wasn't fair; he wasn't picked.

Andrew looked at her, his wispy brown hair slicked back with sweat. He opened his lips slightly and a drizzle of blood dribbled down his lips. His mouth was filled with blood. She could almost taste the tang.

"Why? How can I help you?" She asked, going all around, trying to find anywhere that was weaker.

"You can't." Andrew coughed, "Soon you'll be alone."

"No." She shook her head, "Andrew! Stop it! Don't die! Please..." She banged against the barrier, watching her brother's face turn ashen, "I don't want to be alone again..."

"Oh, Elizabeth," Her brother reached out a red hand faintly toward her from where he was limp, "When were you ever not?"

THEGREENGAMES

Ron watched as Elizabeth streaked off into the forest.

"Mental bird." He hissed. He'd lost her somewhere in the fog. She'd been mumbling incomprehensible things to herself; crazy things, and then she'd taken off like the dickens. Well, he couldn't help her if she didn't want to be helped!

When she'd offered to leave, Ron was almost gleeful...then he thought of how disappointed Luna would be, and he grabbed her back. It was dangerous out there, no matter how much he disliked her. He didn't want to kill her, so if he let her just walk away and he died, it would pretty much be the same idea.

"I bet its manticores!" He said out lout. Ron was the unluckiest kid, so usually, if he guessed, he wasn't right. So by reverse-logic, it wouldn't be manticores causing these screams, right? He hoped so.

He paced around the camp, wondering if he should go looking for Elizabeth. He could die out there, he thought. So could she. But he tried to keep her here, he ran into the bloody forest after her.

Arg! Luna was still making him do the right thing, even in death, wasn't she?

Ron got three steps into the forest when he noticed the worst thing in the world- gigantic spider webs.

"Oh, come on!" He grunted. Hadn't they already dealt with those? Or were these some stragglers that had survived all this time? Either way today was not the day Ron felt like he wanted to deal with spiders.

He went the opposite way of the webs, still near where Elizabeth had run off. Something tickled on his shoulder. He brushed it off, but retracted his hand to find a tiny spider crawling over his fingers.

"Urgh!" He whipped his hand frantically, stumbling backwards. There was a spider on his foot. He did what looked like a badly choreographed Irish Dance trying to get it off. He stumbled back and spun around just in time to see a spider spindle down right at his nose.

The sound he made was not something he was proud of.

He'd thought after killing the spider previously he'd buried his fears, but obviously, not. Besides, these weren't even big spiders. These were little ones that were currently...crawling all up his body.

Ron's fingers and hands wacked everywhere, and he stumbled about trying to get them off. He tripped over a branch and luckily managed to crush a good number by his body crashing to the floor. Unluckily, a whole hoard climbed up his body.

His legs were stuck, and Ron scrambled to get up.

"Get off!" He cried, although he doubted they spoke English or cared.

He looked down at his hand, and took a sharp intake of horror. One unfortunate side-affect of fearing spiders was to meticulously research them (about the only thing he'd ever researched) to recognized venomous spiders. He swatted the redback from his hand and stomped it into the ground, in what he thought was in time.

He was wrong.

He fell to his knees as the sensation of a nail being whacked through the back of his hand emerged. The spiders continued to crawl over him as beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and around the redness on his hand.

"This is hell." He muttered, "I've died. It's hell. It's been decided."

THEGREENGAMES

"Mandy...?" Caligula arrived back from the stream to find her missing. He'd been gone longer than expected, but he'd fallen asleep in the stream. He was so exhausted lately, and something about the water made him feel safe. He felt awful about it, now seeing her missing.

Their camp was scuffed up with her footprints, as though she'd left in a hurry. He examined everything carefully, but found no indication of what had made her leave. Her frenzied footsteps made him think it was something that left no tracks, no indication.

He put his guard up immediately, looking everywhere around him. He stuffed his canteen into his bag, and saw her footsteps running to the left. Cautiously, he followed. By this point, he wasn't just going to leave her to die some awful death by flesh-eating birds (his current guess; that would be damn scary, wouldn't it?) He frowned, dispelling the idea. He didn't want to give the game makers any if that's not what it was.

The further he went into the forest, the darker it became. It was closer to dusk, but he knew they still had a couple hours. Besides, it didn't just become dark so quickly.

"What gives?" He demanded out loud. He turned around to retreat to the camp, but found it equally as dark the way he'd come. In fact, it was so dark...he couldn't really tell which direction was what.

He tried to steady his breathing.

Here he was, sixteen years old and still afraid of the dark. It was pathetic, wasn't it? Yet he couldn't stop the way his heart began to beat fast as the dankness settled around him like a noose.

"Mandy?" His pitch became one of terror, "You there?"

He stumbled forward, colliding with a tree. His hands scrambled around it, and he hugged it. He wasn't moving an inch until he could see, no siree. He wasn't about to walk off a cliff!

"Mandy? You okay?" He called, but the dark seemed to swallow his voice. He pressed himself against the tree, trying to flatten himself, and swallowed.

There was a rustling behind him.

"What's that?" He turned, but couldn't see more than five feet in front of him. Something growled and a pair of eyes reflected for a moment before they vanished.

Caligula whimpered.

Off to his left, something skittered over his feet, and he yelped. He nearly jumped up the tree, but his hand brushed something soft and unnatural, and he fell back against the ground.

His whole body shook and he pulled himself into a fetal position near the tree.

If he was being perfectly honest with himself, it wasn't the darkness itself that scared him. Something wet slivered up his leg, and Caligula felt a tear squeeze itself out.

What scared him was he couldn't see what lay inside the darkness.

THEGREENGAMES

The utmost luckiest thing about the whole boggart situation was that it couldn't possibly scare someone who wasn't awake to see his or her nasty figures. Sleeping was the one thing Tracy did best, second to survival, which she'd never thought would have been true.

It wasn't just that Tracy had been known as a child to sleep through whole Hogwarts classes and wake up just as the next cycle of sleep was starting only to fall back to the bliss again, it was that the only spell she'd ever mastered was a silencing spell. Hell, if you had an older brother with the sex-drive of a spring rabbit like she did, coupled with the paper-thin walls of their modest home, you'd learn that spell right quick.

Therefore, she heard none of the screams of the rest of the world going on about her.

She woke a little before dusk, and marveled at how long she'd been asleep. Usually, a message noisily woke her- the only thing that could enter through the spell barrier- with this or that, never letting her get a true night of beauty rest.

Tracey tensed as she realized this; she was a Slytherin after all, and suspicion was in her blood.

Outside looked innocent enough. The world wasn't on fire, nor was it suspended in ice. It didn't seem as though a plague of locusts had barreled through, or some pawsy animal that had eaten her supply of food. In fact, the forest looked almost...picturesque at the moment.

Tracey stood up in her tent, and looked around outside without going out. She should have a letter, a message of what was going on. Marcus would never leave her in the dark, would he?

To say she was surprised when she received the first correspondence from the burly winner was an understatement. Correspondence was an understatement too; it was more cornered after the practice with him.

She wasn't quite sure what it was she had with him. Not a relationship, not like Cedric and Hannah supposedly did, but more than a friendship, she'd decided. She was surprised he talked to her at all. He was a pureblood and a winner of the games. She was a muggleborn and most people forgot altogether she was the other girl in Pansy's dorm at all.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the secretiveness she had and all. She was an enigma, a mystery to unravel, although she would have never taken Flint for the 'effort' sort of guy to let that happen.

She wasn't complaining though. He sent her tips, food, and protection. Maybe when it was all over, when she'd stayed low enough to allow a win for herself (Flint predicted her biggest competition was Hermione, who was like a dying star- burning bright, but too brilliant to last much longer) he'd tell her. Maybe it would be something else.

But she hardly had time to wonder about those possibilities now.

"What's going on, Flint?" She hissed under her breath, hands poised on the edge of her shelter. She frowned, and retreated back inside. She flopped on her stomach and ate a handful of nuts, running her fingers through her messy hair as she crunched on the proteins.

She'd made some jerky last night, she recalled. She should have some of that.

Outside, she stood with her fingers on her chin, frowning at the branch. She was positive she'd had more than that, didn't she?

As she was reaching for the nearest strip, convinced she was making things up, she heard it...the softest sounds of crying.

She retreated, and sprinted over to her bag, grabbing a knife from the bottom of her sack. She crept toward the sound, and saw a figure withering on the ground, bleeding from cleanly cut lines. She'd assumed someone came through and half-killed the person- Hannah, wasn't it?- but that left more questions than answers.

Why didn't they kill her all the way? Who was it? Where were they?

Hannah was also sobbing and yelling at air, in a mad way that made Tracy's hair stand on edge. She seemed...possessed in a way. Or she was hallucinating.

Whatever it was, Tracey backed away quickly. Something about the way she moved wasn't right.

Anxiety riddled her mind in a sudden way she hadn't been expecting. She feared her every step, loathed every sound made around the forest. She expected the worst at ever chirp or whistle. She didn't even know what she was supposed to be looking out for.

There was something at the edge of her vision. Tracey spun around, waving her knife, but it was pointed at emptiness. She took a step back, and the ground crumbled out from underneath her. She fell backwards into a pit, and sandy grit forced its way into her mouth.

The earth seemed to rush back over her, covering her swiftly. Unrelenting panic sized her as she felt her body stiffen, faced with the tightness of the hole she'd fallen into, mixed with the fear of being buried alive.

The earth kept coming. Tracey couldn't breathe. Somehow, she managed to keep screaming. When she heard the cannon, she wondered if she was already dead and it was her own.

THEGREENGAMES

Hermione did fall asleep, but it was the potion's fault. Fault was a strong word though, when her body was so exhausted and so battered that in reality, sleep was the best thing that could have happened.

"How long will it take her to heal?" Colin asked, nodding to the dozing Hermione.

"Hard to say." Draco twiddled at a stick of wood, "Even if she were at St. Mungo's, there's only so much magic can do. Without it, without basically anything, your guess is as good as mine."

"Could we win like this?"

Draco winced inwardly, biting his tongue hard. He forgot all too often the situation Colin and Hermione were both in. They were both muggle-borns. Only one could win, and that was if Pansy didn't kill them all first.

He wanted Hermione to win, but by no means did that mean he wanted Colin to die either. Maybe Colin had forgotten. Maybe he hadn't. Perhaps he was just being optimistic.

"With Hermione hurt?" Draco decided to ignore the 'we'.

"Yeah."

"We're good opponents. Better with her, even half-dead. I can't say. I guess we just have to hope." He said, and that scared him. Draco previously thought relying on hope was for fools and Hufflepuffs, although often the two were one in the same. He'd begun to revisit many ideals this many days in.

"She'll kill herself before she let herself become not useful." Colin scoffed, "And that will prolong it, huh?"

"With Hermione, noting was ever certain." Draco gave a dry chuckle.

Another low sounding moan of pain floated eerily through the barrier. Draco and Colin both stiffened.

"Christ." Colin muttered at the same time Draco said, "Merlin." They exchanged looks.

"That's it." Draco stood, dusting himself off, "Either I'm going to go mad listening to that, or I could try to help. I'm certain at this point it's not the contestants at each other, but something the game-makers did." He said.

"Should I come too?" Colin said, "You might need the extra muscle."

"I don't want to leave Hermione here alone." Draco shook his head, "If I'm not back within the hour, come after me. I'll use the trail method we decided on, okay?" He said. He was already gathering a bag of small medical items, his face set with determination.

"You know, you're acting quite Gryffindorish right now." Colin said with a grin on his face.

"Shut it," Draco said, although there was a blush creeping up his cheeks, "I'm acting like a decent human being, and might I add, as selfish one because that sound is going to throw me off the deep end if I have to listen to anymore of it." He said, stepping outside the barrier.

"One hour. Nightfall." He said, pointing to the slightly-darkening sky.

"If you're not back..."

"Not dead. Malfoys don't die."

Colin watched him wander off into the forest.

"Cheeky bastard." He scoffed, playing anxiously with his fingers.

The sun sunk lower and lower. The sounds continued, but Draco didn't appear back through the trees. Colin had long ago decided this had been a very bad idea, and Draco might as well sign his own death warrant by going out there. There hadn't been a cannon...yet. That didn't mean Draco wasn't bleeding out somewhere, near death, waiting for someone to rescue him.

With approximately fifteen minutes until he was supposed to go find him, Hermione woke up.

"Where's Draco?" She asked, looking around with groggy eyes.

"Out getting wood." Colin was sure his tone was an inch above reasonable. Hermione looked at him dubiously.

"There's a pile there." She said, and her eyes widened, "Colin, where is he really?"

"Helping people?" Colin said.

She shot up straight.

"You let him go out there by himself?" She demanded.

"He did it! We had to watch you, or I would have gone too!" Colin argued. Hermione's whole face turned bright red with anger.

"Because of me, someone who was sleeping safely, you let Draco go out during what might be the goddamn apocalypse? Colin!"

"I'm going after him, okay?" Colin didn't want to admit that Hermione's points were far more reasonable than Draco's, and perhaps if she'd been awake, they wouldn't be worrying about this because Colin would have been with him, or neither out there at all.

"I should hope so. I'm coming too!" She said, swinging her legs over the bed, and wincing deeply.

"No." Colin said, "You can't. You'll hurt yourself more."

"Is this the face of someone who cares, Colin?"

"I can find him." Colin assured, "I can. I promise. He's taught me a lot about magical signatures. I know his. I can find him." He hurriedly assured, "He'd kill me if you hurt yourself on his behalf."

"I'm ready to-," Hermione tried to stand, but dizzily fell back, and hit the wall in frustration, "Fine." She snapped, "Be back soon."

"You promise you'll stay put." Colin said, watching her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Maybe." Hermione grunted, "But only if you come back with him soon, alive." She said.

"That's the plan." Colin gave a grunt, and stepped outside the barrier. The darkness was chilling, and now outside his little haven, the sounds of pain and suffering were so much more pronounced. It was as if the whole forest was amplifying everyone's grief toward something Colin hoped he wouldn't find.

He saw little tufts of upturned soil, and followed that. Soon, it became disjointed and scattered, and he couldn't tell the path Draco was leaving him at all. The signature seemed horribly confused too, as though something had interrupted it...

He sniffled, and felt his nose drip. He'd begun to develop a cold, unfortunately, and he used the back of his sleeve to wipe away the mucus. Yet, as soon as he began to pull away, the bitter tang of blood swarmed up his nose, and he withheld a gag.

The sleeve of his coat was shiny with blood. He lifted a finger to his nose, and it came back sticky and red.

"Shit..." He muttered, shaking his head, and trying to focus on anything but the slow dripping of the garnet substance down his face.

It didn't really work. He grew woozy, and the forest darkened around him as he toppled to the ground.

THEGREENGAMES

Draco set off confidently; he'd been cooped up far too long and was itching for something to do, someone to save. Besides, staring at Hermione, willing her to heal did nothing except frustrate him. It was as useful as watching paint dry.

He understood Colin's worry, but he was not as concerned. This thing hadn't sought them out yet, and although the sounds were awful, it wasn't terrible. The distinction in his own mind made sense, the idea that this was one notch below utter chaos, yet one above an obstacle.

He found traces of people that had come through, fires left hastily or heels dug into the ground, but found no one. This was a bit spooky to him, but Draco didn't scare easily. He'd seen someone's innards being held in their own hands...it took more than a couple people where they shouldn't to really terrify him.

He knew he should be getting back soon; the sky was dark. He was determined though. The sounds had been so close...where was the person? At this point, he'd save anyone but Pansy, maybe even Pike. Perhaps it was a sort of 'brotherhood' that was born from being mauled by something other than them, that when it was something the game makers forced, he was more willing to be sympathetic. Or something.

The area around him turned suddenly cold. The grass crunched under his feet, fresh with frost, and a flower wilted and froze before his eyes. He tightened his posture, and closed his eyes.

He didn't even really consider the fact that demenotrs had already been here, mostly because he'd been so relieved not to meet them the first time around. These things, unlike everything else, did terrify him.

He recalled their coming to Hogwarts in his third year vividly. He'd made fun of Potter for having a run in or two with them, but that was to hide his own panic whenever he saw a wisp of one. They were drawn to him as much as Harry, if not more. He still could feel those icy cold and spidery like fingers upon his cheek, the soulless stare as it came closer...

He let out a shaky gasp, and ran. They came from the treetops and the ground. They floated around him in multitude, and he knew in the bottom of his heart they were sent specifically for him, goading him out with sounds of the wounded. It was obvious, wasn't it? It was Voldemort's own doing, taking Draco out before he could become any more of a rebel.

As they came past, sucking the warmth from his body, it felt like part of his face was being ripped away. He fell backwards, his head hitting the rock-hard ground, but he could barely tell the coldness of the forest from the feeling of the chill in his own bones.

The happiness drained away. There was nothing to live for. Nothing to fight for. Nothing to...

THEGREENGAMES

Colin was not back.

Draco was not back.

Hermione was not happy.

Damn her own recovery, these boys clearly needed her help.

Although every step hurt, and her whole body ached, Hermione pushed on. She made each excruciating step forward instead of back, and kept her wits about her. There was something nasty lurking out here, and she knew she might not be good enough to fight it. She could outwit it, if she kept the pain from taking over her logic.

There was a shadow to her left. She turned to see an apparition of a figure, but it was one she was pleased to see.

"Harry! You got to help me. Where's Draco or Colin?" She asked, struggling forward. Harry was stonily silent, unusually. He looked like he did at the train station, but there was a total darkness to him that stood out in stark contrast to the Harry she'd met before.

"Harry, please, tell me where they are. I don't think either has much time." She begged, stumbling at his feet.

"Why would I tell you?" He scoffed, stepping back, as if disgusted, "You can't even keep yourself safe. And to run to Draco? I thought I knew you better."

The disappointment in his eyes stung like a slap. She startled.

"He saved my life, Harry. I...I don't expect you to understand." She whimpered, confused and hurt.

"He's one of them, Hermione. He's just waiting to kill you, don't you see? I never took you for an idiot."

"Harry..." Hermione blubbered, "Why are you saying these things?" He became silent once again, "Harry, please!" She grasped at him as he turned and walked into the forest. She followed numbly, stumbling after him like a child. His piercing eyes and silent frown was the worst insult someone could have ever given her, and it made her question what she thought she knew. Harry was wiser, and he'd helped her before, hadn't he?

She came face to face with Seamus next. He appeared the same way Harry had, the apparition with a tint of a darkness she didn't recall seeing before. Instead of grinning like she knew, Seamus looked at Hermione with distain. She felt her heart come up her throat and clog it. She couldn't breathe. Why was he back? Why was he here?

"Seamus, not you too..." Hermione whimpered, "You should be on!"

"How could I?" He asked fiercely, "When it's your fault I'm dead. You did this to me." He said.

"I...I..." Hermione couldn't even argue it. It was what she'd believed all along. Why did she expect him to think of her any differently? Not when it was obviously her fault.

"To think I fancied myself in love with you." He gave a ark chuckle, "I see my faults now. You're poisonous. First Harry, then me. Whose next, Hermione?"

"I never meant-,"

"Of course not. You were just thinking of yourself and how much you supposedly needed to see Elizabeth. Didn't even think I'd come after you, no?" He said angrily, "You're like a plague. Death follows you. And you thought you wouldn't be changed after? I don't even recognize the lass I thought I loved." He said.

"I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough." Seamus spat. Hermione felt as though her heart was breaking in two. She clutched the necklace he'd given her tightly. Should she offer it back to him? Should she not? It broke the skin, and she thought of Draco's eyes when he'd noticed it.

"I couldn't save you, you're right. But I can save my friends still alive." She said, standing.

"You? You can hardly stand?" Seamus said meanly, and Hermione swallowed. She searched his face, trying to understand why he was saying these things. The shadows that cast upon his face...something wasn't right. It was a tingling in her bones, a sort of alarm that tingled up her spine.

"This isn't you." She whispered, a dawn of understanding, "I don't know what you are, but this isn't Seamus, and that wasn't Harry." She wouldn't ever know what prompted her eureka moment, but the apparition seemed stunned. Perhaps it was, when she looked back, Harry and Seamus were only saying the fears she held deep within her heart, locked away in the deepest cavern. There was nothing they hadn't said that she didn't think, at least in a small part. There was nothing new of their taunts.

"Of course it's me." Seamus said, "You know me." He said with a meaningful certainty.

"I do. Real Seamus did love me. He wouldn't blame me. He's too good for that. Despite it all, he was always too good for that." She felt tears dribble down her face, and she shook her head in amazement, "It's all in my head." Hermione whispered, ignoring it, and walking away, "It's all in my head." Walking away from him, even 99.9% certainty that this was just a mind trick, and in the worst way, was one of the more difficult things she'd done in her life.

"Come back!" Harry floated, and Seamus on her other side, "We're not done with you, Hermione!"

"But I'm done with you! Even if you are real, I will not be taunted for choosing how I want to live the little life I may have left!" She turned, but there was nothing to yell at. She felt a flash of pride; she'd conquered at least one demon, all before dinner.

Her joy was replaced swiftly by fear though, as she came across the supine body of Colin not too far from the campsite. He seemed totally fine, if not for a little dribble of blood on his fingers, and no other visible wounds. There might be wounds internally, but Hermione didn't have the knowledge to check it. He was almost awake, so the best she could do was help him up and half-drag him back to camp, where he fell on the bed out cold once again.

She wasn't going to get any information if he'd found Draco, she realized with a deep frown. She was quite exhausted and woozy at this point, but she knew she needed to go on. Something deep inside of her urged her forward, a nagging voice that screamed there wasn't too much time for Draco left.

She went back out the way she'd come, and came upon a place where the trees were frosted over, the grass breaking beneath her labored steps.

The clear around her was filled with floating dementors.

"Draco!" She cried. In the middle of the clearing, he lay, fingers outreached and face dangerously pale. A thousand deities glowed around him, taking turns as they sucked life from his body. Each time he flopped uselessly, less and less each time, and it was clear there wasn't any time at all.

She leapt forward, and threw her hand out, "Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing. They didn't even notice her. Panic gripped her, and she realized that maybe there was nothing she could do. Her hand was broken, and it wasn't coming up this time.

Something was loosely grasped in Draco's left hand. It looked like...a wand? She lunged forward, avoiding a dementor that now very much noticed her presence, and fell flat on her back.

Within a split second, thoughts of her and Harry and Ron as children flashed through her mind. Christmas with her family, her father lighting the tree on fire accidentally. The smell of old books in a bookshop. Finding a quill that wrote perfectly. Seamus and his kisses that smelled like pine trees. Draco bearing his soul on the rooftop. The smell of a crackling fire. Stars. Love. Passion. It was so much stronger than the first images she'd conjured, and maybe it was because it wasn't to just save herself this time, but Draco too. Hermione always had felt more passionate about things if they helped another.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A shimmering and magnificent lion leapt from the tip of the wand, the silvery body roaring with a force that shook the trees. The glimmering light shone through the wood, and her hand shook with the effort to keep it up. The dementors hissed, running away. She marveled at the sheer power of the spell, perhaps the most powerful one she'd ever cast.

She'd half been expecting a panther, like her animangus. But then again, Patronui changed depending on life situations and feelings. The lion soothed her soul, consoling her in this moment despite all she'd had to do to others, she was still a Gryffindor. It was the smallest comfort she needed to hold onto the spell, the surge of pride that roared through her body, vibrating to the same hum of the lion that prowled around the clearing.

Just as the last few dementors were scurrying away, the wand splintered into a million pieces, falling to the ground as her lion vanished into the mist. She sat, stunned, breathing heavily as she stared into the night.

"Draco!" She realized, spinning around. He didn't even move, and looked so pale and sad, his lips turning blue. His mouth was slightly open, and he gave a tiny gasp, and a little blue ball floated from his body. She'd seen this before; this was what happened before someone died from a Dementor's Kiss, but with no dementor around, couldn't he be saved? Clawing frantically, found an empty jar on his pocket, and grappled to catch it. She wasn't even sure it would work, but the soul or whatever it was floated contently in the jar. She screwed the lid tight. She literally held Draco's life in her hands.

She had to admit, a tiny part of her thought it was beautiful.

She didn't have time to admire the beauty though. She shoved the vial into the pocket of Draco's pants, and tried to get her arms underneath Draco's armpits, to lift him. He was hardly conscious, and his eyes flickered back and forth through the narrowed slits of his eyelids. It wouldn't be like Colin, where she could half-rouse him awake, for he was far too weak.

He also seemed to weigh a ton. Although Colin was stockier, Draco wasn't exactly a lightweight, she quickly realized. Also, she was at least double her exhaustion from when she'd found him, the magic taking its toll. Tears of frustration jumped to her eyes. How in the world was she going to get him home, when she could feel the life draining away as she sat here, useless?

The anger bristled along her skin, and before she knew it, she felt the seamless shimmer of her skin morphing into shiny black fur, her body twisting as she thumped to stand on all her four paws. She looked down at her body, and let out a 'mew' of relief. Thank Merlin some 'behind the scenes' part of her was still working, because although turning into her Animangus was the obvious answer, she wasn't sure she'd thought of it in her frazzled state.

She grasps Draco by the back of his shirt and gingerly began to drag him back through the forest. She wasn't concerned anyone was going to attack them because first, they were likely dealing with their own demons and second she was a panther. If she was a human, she didn't think she'd want to deal with one of those either.

She made it back into the clearing, and dragged Draco into the bubble of protection. He had stopped twitching halfway back, and when she touched her nose to his skin, it felt icy-cold.

She closed her eyes, willing herself, and flopped back to her human self. A sharp jolt of pain on her side made her wince. She hadn't even thought about keeping her stitches in tact while changing, and they'd burst while she was a panther and changing back. Hissing, she grabbed a cloth they'd used to clean her, and pressed it against her side, buckling on her knees, biting her lip as perspiration beaded on her forehead.

She looked at Colin, still out of it, although he seemed to be moving a bit.

She looked at Draco, and with a sticky red finger, fished out the vial, setting it before her. For once in Hermione Granger's life, she had no idea what to do next.

"Colin!" She kicked a leg out, nudging his side with a little bit of force, "Wake up."

Colin muttered, sitting up and rubbing his head. After gathering his bearings a bit, his finger flew to his nose, and he rubbed anxiously, and looked relieved when he came back empty.

His eyes traveled to Draco, and his face lost all the bright color it usually had.

"It he-?"

"I don't know? Technically, maybe? There hasn't been a cannon." Hermione was in near hysterics, half from the pain of her side, half from not knowing how to save him. She wasn't the doctor, he was!

"Is that his soul?" Colin's eyes widened as he snatched up the vial, "Oh my god."

"What do we do? I never took Soul Reinserting 101 at Hogwarts!" Hermione snapped.

"You thought I did?" Colin fired back, just as heated by her tone, "This bad, Hermione. Can it even be done?"

The question hung in the air, like a sickness that spread violently and quickly. It made Hermione feel ill. She never had even asked herself that. What if it couldn't be done? What if Draco was already dead and gone, and she'd been trying to save a corpse this whole time.

There was a moment of absolute silence as Hermione and Colin stared at the jar, both unsure of how to proceed, or even if they should.

A cannon sound knocked them both into action, as they both lunged to feel Draco's pulse, Hermione at his neck, and Colin at his wrist. There was a long, tense second where Hermione felt nothing, but then...there it was...the faintest of heartbeats.

"Should it be coming that sporadically?" Colin asked.

"No." Her throat was dry, "He's dying. He's not dead yet, but he will...we have to try...something!"

Colin turned around and kicked the wall, letting out a hiss of anger. He hit the wall of the cave too, but since it was made of dirt, it didn't hurt him much. This seemed to frustrate Colin more than if it had left cuts. She didn't think he'd be getting so upset over Draco dying, even if he had saved his life. He'd saved hers too, and she was more so annoyed that she was useless now. Colin's anger seemed to transcend this, something deeper she couldn't quite grasp.

She picked up the vial again, staring at it, and staring at Draco.

"Please, someone, help..." She whispered, looking up at the starry sky. How was his father not sending down anything and everything on the Dementor's Kiss right now? She didn't understand.

"Okay, okay." Colin turned back around, "What are most things counteracted by, in general. All magic?" He asked.

"The opposite of something." Hermione answered immediately, the item of trivia as second hand as breathing to her, trying to connect this with the soul.

"What's the opposite of a Dementor's Kiss?"

"Colin, I don't think that this-,"

"Dammit, Hermione. Do you have a better idea?" He growled, a feral part of him Hermione did not recognize. She didn't, but they didn't have all day to try different approaches. They basically had one singular shot to save Draco's life before it would be too late. She knew that when someone got the Dementor's Kiss, they were alive, but stayed as a vegetable.

Draco was dying though. Had he been hurt in a way they didn't know? Did they take more than the usual, because they were not under the Ministry's control? Was this difference vital to saving him? She looked at him, and something inside of her hurt terribly at the idea of loosing him. It might just have been her side, still bleeding, but she liked to think it was something more.

"Fine. Life, obviously." She played Colin's game; quite sure it would lead them nowhere. As it was, he paused at her answer, studying Hermione intently.

"Love." He whispered hoarsely, "That's what life's all about, right? Love and kiss equals..." He trailed off. Hermione gave him a look to indicate she thought he was bonkers.

"True love's kiss? You're joking right now. That's for fairytales."

"It's magic. There have been instances." Colin defended his theory.

"Fine. Say it's true. It wouldn't work for us." She said, "I don't love him, you don't love him, you see?" Colin was unusually quiet. He opened his mouth, but then closed it. Then he looked at Draco, then to Hermione, and a light seemed to pop into his head.

"But...it might work the other way around. Does it have to work both ways? Can the love of one side be strong enough to save the other? Even if the person's not really awake, I mean, the love doesn't vanish...it's still there."

The air seemed much thicker in the cavern. "What are you implying?" Her question felt like she was just exhaling air, the question so light and quiet it scarcely existed. Colin's eyes were firm, with a tinge of guilt as he looked at Draco, then to her again before he spoke.

"I'm not implying anything, Hermione. I'm telling the truth. Draco's in love with you." He said, and Hermione felt her whole body freeze up. How did she take this information? Where did she take it? Did she even entertain the idea it might be true, as unlikely as she thought it to be? She thought he hated her, didn't he, because she killed Blaise? Was Colin just making it up?

"You have to try, at least." Colin interrupted her train of thought, "I mean, it's not like I can do it." There was a bitter note in his voice; something Hermione wanted to pursue now, but knew it wasn't the time.

Hermione sat back on her haunches, and winced.

"You're bleeding." Colin realized, "That's not good."

"We can't think of me now. It won't kill me. Draco will fix it, when we wake him." She made her voice firm, authoritative. In reality, she wasn't sure Draco would survive this. That they'd be able to figure it out. That she could save him. But if she let those fears in now...she'd never find her way out.

"What do we do?" She asked Colin.

"I'm not the 'smartest witch of my age'," Colin looked at her like she was mad, "I'm just Colin."

"And you're the one that gave us the idea. I don't know where to start either."

"Maybe...take the soul out?" Colin said, and before Hermione could stop him, he unscrewed the cap, and tilted the jar. The soul fluttered out, moving like a slow-moving liquid, and sat upon his palm.

"Wow..." he breathed, "Here, take it." He shoved it at Hermione. She found herself with the soul in her hands before she could even begin to protest. It was so light, airy. She didn't expect this of someone who seemed to have taken such a dark path, a family that lived and breathed for Voldemort. She was sure if she could hold Pansy's soul, it would be as heavy as lead.

What would hers be?

"Tell me what to do." She whispered under her breath. Maybe Draco could hear her, maybe he couldn't? But perhaps the soul was of him in such a way she'd just...know how to save him.

"Maybe this is the part you kiss him." Colin broke in.

"Yes, you're right. Of course. The kiss." Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about it, 'true love's kiss', something she didn't believe in to begin with, and certainly not regarding her. Did she put the soul in first? That's how it came out, so shouldn't it go back in that way?

Yet as she began to move it, it warmed when it reached the area over his heart. She pressed the soul with her palm gently against his chest...but it stayed, unmoving.

"Kiss him." Colin hissed. Hermione threw him a dirty look, because a kiss was not going to change anything, obviously, but leaned down.

His lips were deathly cold, and Hermione felt like she was kissing an ice-block. Yet as she connected with his mouth, there was a give, a tug on the soul. A shudder of a want, a yearning of a pull. She kissed a little bit more, and the soul tugged down, hard. She jolted back, pressing it down with all her might, feeling like she was shoving something through a hole it didn't quite belong through. Wild, light blue lights exploded in the den, and Colin scrambled back, cowering, before realizing it likely wouldn't hurt him.

Hermione's hands burned like fire, but she kept on, and sparks of the blue seemed to crackle at her eyes, like she had gotten too close to the bonfire during her holidays near the beach. It shown brighter than before, a white blinding light, and in that moment Hermione could feel his heart, the softest and saddest little puff of a jolt, before it began to beat wildly, a force like an untamed stallion.

Then, the light vanished, and the soul wasn't in Hermione's fingers.

Draco shot upward with a loud and audible gasp, his fingers moving all of his body in astonishment.

"I'm alive." He breathed, over and over, "Holy fuck, I'm alive." Then, he noticed Colin, still fallen over in surprise who was glancing between him and Hermione with the stupidest smile on his face, and Hermione, still bleeding, eyes wide with shock she couldn't even speak of.

"What the hell happened?" He demanded. Hermione couldn't speak; she was trying to make sense of everything all at once and her brain felt as though it was going to fry. It had been one of the most sensual (but not in a particularly sexual way), but yet enlightening experiences she'd even been privy to, and she wasn't sure how she felt on the matter.

Finally, Colin wheezed out a strangled chuckle, "About that..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did y'all think about that wonderful dramione scene, eh?
> 
> As for the soul, I was particularly inspired by three aspects that already exist. First, the idea of like holding a soul comes from Stephanie Meyer's The Host novel. I know, twilight author. But don't laugh! Twilight was pretty awful, but this one is actually one of my favorites. The movie actually wasn't half bad either, but I'd for sure read the book first. Secondly was Myazaki's (sp? It's four am. Not going to check) Howl's Moving Castle, the whole idea about the soul (heart) and blue and yeah. Third was Once Upon a Time, which deals with TLK (True Love's Kiss) a lot. It may not have a monopoly on it, but it still is where I thought of doing it from. Captain Swan why do you do this to me!
> 
> So once again, guess the fears ;) Once again, some aren't as obvious. Like Draco's isn't just straight up dementors, if you can guess it for real. Many are inspired by my real world fears. After all the guesses, I'll let you know!
> 
> Here's what we have so far:
> 
> Hannah: Blaise and Corner
> 
> Pike: Snakes (I literally just realized how ironic this is, since I made him a Slytherin! Lol, I crack myself up)
> 
> Pansy: Not being good enough and failure.
> 
> Now hers threw people for a loop. Most got the 'not good enough/low self-esteem' and thought it was rather cliched. It is, sorta. But sometimes cliches exist for a reason. I'd never give that fear to any other villain, like Pike or something. But what many missed, and only one person truly got, was her fear of failure. Pansy is the ultimate foil to Hermione in every way. Hermione's biggest fear, if you recall in the third novel, was failure, and I mirrored that with Pansy. It's not just that she won't be good enough for Draco, it's that she won't even see that day, after fighting so hard for everything. Here's what the reviewer who got it left that sums it up perfectly: Pansy's Bogart(s) seems like it could be a toss up between fear of failure and a fear of inadequacy or both really. Her "mother" admonishing her for being unladylike despite it being unrealistic to expect to be clean in this situation (failure) and "Mrs. Malfoy" stating that no matter what she'll never be good enough for anyone (inadequacy). It makes sense since a few chapters ago she was stating that when she wins she'll have the power to get what she wants namely a certain blonde haired boy even if she has to force it. People who have these fears usually end up thinking that they just need enough power, money or influence that forces others to submit to them as a way to make up for what they believe as weaknesses. It could also be the reason why she is somewhat obsessed with killing Hermione since she sees her as a threat. Things seem to come easy to Hermione, people like her better, guys faun over her and she doesn't have to force anyone into helping her, they do it out of love not fear. Pansy wants that even if she has to force it.
> 
> Maybe that will make you think it's a bit less cliche ;)
> 
> And I know what everyone's going to ask 'Lexie! Why could Hermione see the dementors while Tracey and everyone else couldn't see anyone else's boggarts?' I like to think in this Boggart 2.0, you have to basically conquer your fears before you can deal with anyone else. Although Hermione didn't know she's vanquished hers, she did, unlike anyone else was able to do (someone with dire consequences). Short and easy answer to that :) These boggarts aren't as childlike to go away by making funny things, no, they need your heart and soul before they leave you alone...or someone dies.
> 
> On that note, I think I'll be evil and won't tell you who dies! There's some where their threats are non-lethal, but some others...well, it could be dangerous. Give me your best guesses! And whew, sorry for that wall of text. Maybe some of you found it interesting.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a week off for Thanksgiving. Sorry I didn't really have a way to tell you...
> 
> On the bright side, this chapter was originally going to be like 7 pages. Then I looked at the rest of my plans for the story and realized a lot of things are going to be happening really, really soon and therefore I needed people to be certain places and certain things to happen to set the rest of the story into motion. I know it seems like we have a lot of people left, but it doesn't take long to kill someone... If anything, we are for sure on the back-end of the story, as sad as it is to say.

It was early in the morning when they found the body.

Pansy winced as she came across it, staunch recognition settling into her bones, but like staring at a train-wreck…she simply couldn't look away. Pike, who she never expected to see do, stumbled a couple feet past the tree line, holding his lips together, before vomiting on the ground.

"You tortured a girl beyond recognition, but this makes you squeamish?" Pansy questioned with a disappointed frown, although her eyes traveled backwards to where he lay, dead.

"It was different." Pike was kneeling at her feet, wiping his sleeve across his lips, a shadowy look on his face, "I did that by choice. I knew what was doing it. I didn't even know the bird, anyway."

Pansy considered his words. "Still," She mumbled, dragging Pike up by his collar. She supposed she forgot he was still only 16 sometimes. Often, she forgot she was only 17 as well.

Pike shuddered as she brought them upon the body once again, staring down at it with so many questions.

"What in the hell did that? Wasn't snakes." Pike deduced.

"Snakes?"

"Yeah, snakes. I was being attacked by a whole hoard of them, and suddenly, then went away. Right before you found me." He said, and Pansy stiffened. She had not seen a single snake in the area yet.

"Well, it could have been my mother." She said with a dry laugh, "I wouldn't put it past her."

Pike sent her a confused look, and she ignored him. She was still caught up with what she'd found.

"Merlin." She whistled, "I almost didn't even recognize him." She admitted, almost a bit guilty. She'd spent days with this boy, and came to appreciate his darker side, something that had been non-existent at Hogwarts. And, truth be told, he wouldn't have been the worst in the world to win if she didn't, and although she always knew he was a half-blood, she couldn't imagine a scenario where she was the one to kill him.

Perhaps then, this was all the better, so she never would have to make that choice.

"Corner…he didn't deserve this."

"Worried about your own fate, Pike?" Pansy asked with a bark of laughter, and watched his face contort. She'd hit it on the mark.

Aside from Lavender, which was only from word of mouth of Pike, there hadn't been a more gruesome ending to a contestant yet so far. Michael Corner's whole body was incredibly deteriorated, the flesh torn away. His fingernails were coated with blood, and on the spots remaining, Pansy could see where his nails scored down his skin. The remainder of it seemed to be eaten away.

It was a grisly sight, a god-awful one that if Pansy were the slightest bit queasier, she too might have lost her dinner. Even she was beginning to wish to look away, leave the image in her mind behind. She knew that would be impossible though, not when his face (or, what was left) was so…haunting. Lips shaped into a scream, eyes bloody and simply gone, bits of his cheek missing, leading into the gaping mouth and showing slivers of teeth one shouldn't ever be able to see…

She felt dizzy, and stumbled away.

"Where are you going?" Pike asked, bounding after her.

"Away." She snapped, "What's the use?" She covered.

"Shouldn't we do something? Don't you find it strange he hasn't been picked up by the carriers yet?" He pressed.

"I dunno." Pansy shrugged, but in truth, it did bother her. Set something in her stomach not right, although it might have been the body, "He's dead. No longer our problem." She said firmly, much to Pike's dismay. She would bet anyone a thousand galleons he felt guilty.

"What do you think…did it?" He asked as Pansy forced her feet to take her away from Corner's body.

"Rats, maybe?" She questioned.

Pike immediately went on the defense, eyes scanning the trees for furry moving shapes. "I doubt there are still here." Pansy said, nudging his shoulder, "Your snakes are gone, right?"

"Yeah." Pike said, and she noticed he kept throwing furtive glances back to where they'd come from, "I just…well, I thought I'd seen it all."

Pansy tried to banish Corner's body from her mind. She was failing, and it frustrated her. It already was a ghost. "Yeah, me too."

THEGREENGAMES

The message arrived three hours after Draco awoke.

They hadn't talked much, any of them. They'd made food, and tried to sleep, although everyone's eyes were wide awake and in awkward moments would connect, before quickly glancing away.

Hermione wasn't even sure the whole bit about 'True Love's Kiss' was legitimate, for as much as she recalled it, it didn't do much. She'd reinserted the soul with her hands, not her lips. So, she wasn't going to bring it up. Perhaps, she considered, the issue would vanish on it's own.

Draco wasn't in the mood to talk, not since having his own near-death experience ("Now it's my turn, eh?" Colin had piped up when he brought this up, and he'd received deadly glares from both Hermione and Draco), and just sat eating and drinking water, looking tired.

Colin, although whenever he met Hermione's eye he was internally grinning, had realized that pushing the subject wouldn't get father than a swear word or two, and besides…these things couldn't be rushed at all.

So when the tingling of the message came, they could all stop pretending like they were going to get some shuteye, and crowded around the little scroll of paper.

"Oi, give a boy some space, yeah?" Draco grunted when Colin was nearly breathing over his shoulder.

"Read it out loud, then." Hermione said, just as curious to find out what it said.

Draco, instead, read it silently to himself, although Hermione could see his eyes switching through the words swiftly. He seemed to read it twice.

"Boggarts." He finally said, shaking his head, "that's what they were."

"Impossible." Hermione was quick to interject, "Boggarts aren't…they can't hurt you. It's the fear projected that really does in most with them."

"Boggarts that were mutated by the game makers…so they could kill you." Draco corrected, and Collin whistled.

"Bloody ada." He muttered.

"Killed Corner. His fear was rats." A shudder ran over his body, and Hermione didn't blame him. There was a silence amongst them, thinking of the things they each encountered. Hermione's never seemed dangerous, not to her, but then again, not every fear necessarily was, was it?

Draco's certainly was; no one had to go over that one. Colin's…?

"What was yours, Colin?" Hermione frowned, "I found a bit of blood on you, but nothing else."

Colin mumbled weakly, "Ah, my own blood. Stupid, really. Anyone could have walked right up and whacked me, lying there from a little nose-bleed."

"You're joking." Draco asked, deadpanned, "Really? How'd you survive at all here? Pike nearly killed you, what about then?"

"I dunno. I suppose I was so…intent on surviving, I just didn't really have time to think about it at all. It's only my own, nothing else bothers me, otherwise you likely wouldn't have me around."

Draco snickered, "That's possibly the worst and best fear."

"Erm…thanks?"

"It's pathetic, don't get me wrong-,"

"Draco!" Hermione hissed angrily.

"- but I don't know if it would have killed you." He sat mulling over his own thoughts, "Suppose I should be lucky. Thanks…to both of you."

There was a pause, "Did you really hold my soul?" He asked.

"We think it was." Hermione answered softly, "It was, well I can't even describe it."

"Not just anyone can hold a soul. Varies for each person, but well, I must trust you two an awful lot if both of you were able to touch it. Someone like Pansy, it would be like trying to grasp air." Hermione thought back about Colin's words, that he loved her. Perhaps this was true, in a sense, knowing what she just heard. She looked over at Colin, and saw him gleaming with pride.

"Souls, I've never quite read much about them. I've read a bit of medical theory, too, you know." Hermione began, eager to pick Draco's mind on it.

"That's basically all that exists…theory. There are not a whole lot of unattached souls out there, waiting for us to study it. The only way we currently know of severing a soul from a body is with the Dementors Kiss, and we could never ask volunteers to do that. Even with prisoners scheduled to die anyway, it's a dangerous thing to try to get between a dementor and his collected soul. It's all a lot of sheer theoretical talk, basically." Draco said, frowning. Then, he grinned, and his eyes lit up in a way Hermione knew very well, for it was the way she looked before she launched into a topic about her favorite book or a lesson to someone.

"I guess that means I've made medical history. Merlin, I hope Miriam recorded that. This is so huge for the medical community, you know, and I was the one that…this could open whole new doors for us."

"You seem quite interested in medicine. I knew you obviously practiced it, but…" Colin trailed off, as though looking at Draco in a new light.

"It gave me a purpose…medicine. Miriam too." He added fondly, "She's my mentor."

"You speak highly of her, it seems." Hermione didn't know any medical personnel much, besides the school nurse, but even then, did it really count? Being in the medical field was simply not the accomplishment it was in the muggle world, as far as Hermione knew.

"When I first went about trying to get into it, after my third year, not one teacher would let me join their class. Suppose I can't blame them, you know. My father, a known associate of Voldemort, and me- well I was a punk my first couple years. I don't know if people just thought I wasn't serious, that they didn't want to be around to hold the blame when they were positive I'd screw up something big, or they'd be found out by Voldemort they were helping me and be killed. Miriam Strout was the only one that didn't care, and she wasn't even a teacher, officially. But she knew a lot of things. For things she didn't, or just couldn't teach me like surgeries, she helped me transfigure my appearance to sit in on classes. It was only less than a couple months ago I was sort of accepted into the general teachings without fear or hate. But now…" He looked down, a darkness weighing over him, "With the blood on my hands? I don't know."

"You've helped as many as you could. Technically, that goes against the rules of the game, if it were put simply." Hermione said, and before she knew it, she'd reached out to rub his back. Draco either didn't notice or didn't mind, but made no show of it as her fingers touched his back.

"Gryffindor optimism can be deliciously naive." Draco said dryly, "I suppose we'll see. I have to win it first. Without you, I'd be dead. Both of you. I guess it's my second chance, and I don't think I'll be lucky enough to get another."

"It has nothing to do with luck." Hermione harrumphed, "Skill, mostly."

"There was luck in the timing you found me." Draco ruffled the paper, "My father wrote down the ordeal I apparently went through…vividly."

Hermione felt her blood go cold. Neither her nor Colin had said anything about her kissing him, of course. Not under the circumstances, of any sort. He might like to know, merely because yes it would help the medical community, but others out there had the raw data of it…didn't they?

"All of it?" She asked lightly, feeling dizzy. She wasn't ready to have this conversation, not quite yet.

"Yeah." Draco whispered, staring at her hard, a peculiar expression swimming just beneath a stony poker face, "All of it." His words were decisively meaningful. He knew Hermione had kissed him and he knew it was under the hope of a 'True Love's Kiss.'

He got up quickly, and turned to Colin. "Let's go hunting, shall we? The boggarts are gone, and others will still hopefully be recovering. Opportune time, if I do say so."

"Are you fit to go?"

"I'm not bleeding out anywhere, and last I checked, my souls' still here." He did touch his chest and wince, "Though looks like I'll have a nasty scar." He added. He pulled down the collar of his shirt just slightly enough to see the start of what looked like a nasty burn, traveling likely across his chest. Hermione looked at the red bubbles on her hand where reinserting his soul had hurt her too. She pulled her hands back behind her knees.

"I'll come too."

"No, you won't." Draco said firmly, "I just stitched you back up, for Merlin's sake! I don't think you should be moving around at all, but we both know you can't help that." She blushed.

"What do you expect me to do then?" she questioned hotly.

"I don't know, see what we have left, and start making some side or a soup or something. We'll hopefully be back with a meat."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, "Is it because I'm a women?" She asked, scowling. Draco sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

"I don't know if you're purposely obtuse or just that unperceptive, but blood is currently running down your jacket from the wound." He said, and Hermione snapped her hand over her still oozing cut, "So…no, it's because you're wounded and we still don't know what the inside of you looks like."

Hermione pouted, but nodded in stiff agreement. The boys left, and Hermione wrapped some extra cloth around her side again, tighter, to stop the bleeding. She first organized the little cave; to men living in it left it basically looking like a pigsty, and she was disgusted it had gotten so bad. She also took note of their rations, and began to make a stew with some items that seemed they wouldn't be edible after tonight. It was going to be a lavish meal, with all the things going bad, but after what they all suffered through, it was a little okay. It smelled heavenly, and she hopped the boys came back with some meat to add further depth to it. She found a couple bottles of herbs-ones for eating-mixed among those for healing or potion making, and stored those between Draco's medical supplies and the remainder of their food.

As she was clearing, she picked up the letter from Draco's father. She knew he kept them all tucked under his pillow in a stack, and while it might be uncouth of her to invade his privacy like this, she needed to read Elizabeth, Ron, and Hannah's names and know they were still alive.

The letter was appropriately long for he items he had told his son. She read all about the boggarts, and aside from Corner who had suffered a most grisly death, the only others (besides Draco as well, of course) who had sustained any injuries were Hannah and Ron. Seeing both their names on the page like his sent a tingle of fear down her spine, so bad that she had to hold herself back from tearing off into the jungles now to find them. The one positive was Mr. Malfoy didn't think either would die from it.

She purposely skipped his retelling of how Draco had been saved, because she wasn't sure she wanted to see his thoughts on the 'True Love's Kiss' portion. It still scared her.

There was the list of bets, and unlike previous days, it was as though someone had put all their names in a jar and shook them around. Hermione was now at the top, and everyone else seemed to fall haphazardly. In a note; Draco's father wrote it was because Hermione was the only one that had beaten her boggart, and therefore came out far superior- also a nod of recognition it had been smart to partner with her. Hermione's chest warmed with pride at his praise.

She tucked the note away, and around this time, Draco and Colin returned with a large hare.

"Merlin, how did we live before this? It's so clean!" Colin laughed.

"You touched my medical supplies." Draco seemed annoyed with her.

"Yes, well, they were everywhere and I kept tripping." Hermione said defensively.

"Women…" Draco muttered.

They skinned the rabbit quickly, and all were impatient to eat. It was a delicious meal, perhaps the best she'd ever had, if she was being honest. There was a homely feeling to it that she missed terribly, and she had a feeling the boys felt it too.

After they ate the pot, stomachs stretched and mood brightened, Colin reached over and found the woodpile empty. He reluctantly got to his feet.

"I'm gunna go find some dry stuff. I'll be careful." He added, when Draco sent him a look.

"Fine. I still doubt anyone's moving around out there." Draco allowed, and turned to Hermione, "I think I should try to work a little more on your wound. I don't have my wand, so it might be rough of course, but I can try. Also, I found some plants in the woods that might help stop infection."

"Okay." Hermione agreed hesitantly, wishing Colin could be here. She'd feel a lot more comfortable if she had him next to her, not that she thought Draco would kill her or anything.

"Can you lie down on the bed? Pull your shirt up?" Draco asked, and Hermione complied.

She watched him as his eyes zeroed in on her wound, and he began to work. He was precise, thorough, and calculated…everything Hermione would want in her healer. It was a good fit for him, she mused. She'd never put much question into what he'd do after Hogwarts, she just assumed follow Voldemort. She'd never imagined he might want something else for himself or that he was good enough at something that he could make a career of. She knew he was smart.

There was a pattern, a rhythm, to his healing. It set Hermione at ease, to the point she zoned out as she watched his fingers move, his lips whisper incantations or occasionally mix something and put on her puckered skin. Sometimes, she hissed in pain, but other than that, she was quiet. That is, until the words could no longer be contained.

"I didn't kill Blaise." She said. She broke his train of concentration, and he fumbled.

"What?"

"I didn't…" She felt stupid saying it now, and wondered why she'd even brought it up at this time, "Blaise. I didn't kill him."

Draco's cool grey eyes narrowed, turning hard as she continued talking, "I know that's why you hated me when you found me. I saw it in your eyes. You thought about killing me. I get it. I do." She kept on talking, the words spilling out.

"Granger," She winced; he didn't use her real name, but her surname like they weren't familiar. There was a detachment when he spoke, "Do us both a favor and have the decency to admit it. My father told me everything." He was downright pissed at her now, she thought.

Helga Hufflepuff; this wasn't going at all how she thought it was going to! "I mean, yes, I did. But, it wasn't really me."

Draco stopped his work on her completely; eyes still blazing with fury, "Enlighten me." His words were sharp enough to cut.

So she did; all about those damn berries that had drawn her to him, and her irrational anger when she saw Justin. How they worked, what Seamus had told her about it (not about what happened before she'd found out; he didn't need to know this) and all she could. How much she did hate herself for what she'd done, even if it hadn't been in her right mind. She felt her words blubbering as she spoke, although she hadn't meant to cry at all, but she still felt…she still felt so darn guilty.

There was a pregnant silence when she finished. Finally, Draco gave a chuckle of disbelief.

"Well, if you're telling the truth, this changes things." He said. Hermione felt her heart drop to her stomach.

"You don't believe me."

"I've never heard of it before, but," He resumed his work on her, now focusing on her burnt hands, so that must be a good sign, "You do seem…truthful. Honestly regretful. You can't fake it."

"And…" he added softer, "I never…there was never a moment I really thought about letting you die. I couldn't live with myself, you know?" He said. Hermione bit her lip.

"Because you're a healer?"

Draco flash her a quick smile, and she was well aware of the warmth of his hands and the tapping of his fingers across her palm, "Something like that." He said, and Hermione had a feeling it was nothing like that. In that moment, she began to truly wonder…maybe it was true.

She couldn't ask anymore because Colin came back, arms filled to the brim with wood.

"How long do you think we'll be here, Creevy?" Draco asked, the familiar drawl and scoff returning to his tone. Colin dropped it unceremoniously.

"I dunno." He said, beginning to divvy it into piles, "Just want to be prepared…is Hermione any better?" He asked, looking up at her stomach.

Draco washed his hands in a puddle of water just outside the cave. "I think. Healed some of the burns on her hands, but she might be scarred like me, unfortunately. I got some tips from a healer on the note my father sent me, tried those. Won't know until morning if it worked."

Colin yawned, trying to cover it up.

"I think we should rest." Draco added, "Your body needs time to do its work, Hermione." He said specifically.

"I am a little tired." She admitted, "C'mon Colin." She said, "Still not letting you sleep on the floor."

"You're too kind." Colin mumbled, and as soon as his face hit the bed, he was out. Hermione was too, despite her best efforts. They all actually dozed off this time.

THEGREENGAMES

"Are you…alright?" Ron snapped his head up in surprise. A shocked cough hacked its way up his throat, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

"You came back?" To say he was mildly surprised to see Elizabeth was an understatement.

She merely shrugged. "I don't really feel like being alone." She said, and there was something unspoken in her words, but nothing Ron understood. Yet…he was a little glad to see her. Just for a moment.

"Oh. Yeah. Erm, I'm fine. There were spiders. They're gone now." He said, getting up. He'd mostly been withering on the ground in agony the past couple hours, after that nasty spider bit him. He would have thought they were all made up too, for he blinked and they were suddenly not there, except for the bit mark on his hand.

"Oh, Merlin!"

"It's not lethal. I know quite a bit about spiders, actually." Ron said proudly. If he was going to fear them so, he wanted to know exactly what he should fear, if he ever came across it. He looked at Elizabeth and sighed.

"Are you okay?" He asked, feeling he should return the question.

"I think." Elizabeth said, but looked down, "Just, like I said, not ready to be alone." If Ron was in a worse mood, he might have snappily asked if he got in a say about her being here, but something about her seemed childlike, needy. He thought of Luna, for the first time that day, and the child they might have been having. He scoffed internally; who knew Ronald Weasly had soft spots like that?

"What should we do?" She asked. Ron shrugged, running his fingers through his hair.

"Do I look like I know? I suppose, not stay here. Those spiders might come back…" He gave a hard shudder, and he was glad Elizabeth didn't mock him. Not that he thought she would, but his fear of spiders was still juvenile in a way. It was such a common and mostly irrational fear, yet the thought of those spindly legs…urg! It gave him the creeps, that was for sure.

They traveled silently through the forest. There were times Elizabeth seemed as though she was going to say something, but she closed her mouth again, snapping it shut with an audible clack. Ron too, felt compelled to speak, but then he realized he didn't even know if he had anything to say to her. Should he confront her about his feelings? Ask her more about Luna's days with Elizabeth she hadn't been with Ron, or if she'd known about the baby? Did he even really want her here, despite how small she seemed right now?

Maybe she hadn't seen spiders, but whatever she had…it wasn't sitting well with her. Understandable, in a way. Ron wasn't totally alright after his spider incident either. All he knew is she'd whispered 'Andrew' before tearing off, which if he wasn't mistaken, was her twin.

He knew from his own brothers the bond twins had, even if they weren't the same gender. Until George's death, he and Fred had never been separated. There was a glimmer of pity within his heart because he wondered if Elizabeth was missing her brother as much as Fred missed George.

They paused underneath an overhang, where they shared some food Ron had left from the beginning. It was the last of his rations, and while he wasn't jumping for joy to share his final crumbs with Elizabeth, he decided it wasn't that bad. He'd seen a lot of edible animals here…the trick was just catching them…

"Hey Ron-,"

Elizabeth broke off, and a millisecond later, Ron felt it. The earth vibrated, and the trees shook. A branch peeled off from the tree, cracking as it shattered over the rocks. Pebbles rained down, and Ron-although he'd never truly experienced one before- was positive it was an earthquake. While he knew, internally, they only lasted ten seconds; this one seemed to stretch on forever. Elizabeth slipped, falling on the hard ground, shaken by the vibration. Ron looked up, and saw the boulders above her dislodging.

"Move!" He screamed, but she couldn't hear him over the roaring of the rocks, and he leapt forward before he truly realized what he was doing…and shoved her out of the way before the rocks hit the ground.

For a terrific moment, he thought he had evaded the rocks too, as the dust began to settle. Likely because he hadn't heard the crunch, nor did he feel it, until Elizabeth screamed. She slapped her hand over her mouth, staring with horror at where the pile of rocks sat.

One rock lay over his right leg, but he could already see crimson seeping out from underneath it. Elizabeth crawled over, and tried to shove it off, shaking so hard Ron wondered dizzily if they were experiencing another earthquake. Pain shot through his leg every time she tried to move the boulder, until he stopped her.

"You're not strong enough, ok?" He snapped, and shoved it off himself. A tiny part wished he hadn't, "Fuck." He said, and then winced, "Oh, I mean, you didn't hear that." Elizabeth's glazed eyes seemed to focus, and she let out a small snort.

"I'm thirteen Ron, not three. I've heard naughty words." She said, trying to laugh, but her voice trembled. Despite it, Ron gave a smile back at her.

"Yeah, guess so." He agreed, realizing it was stupid of him to assume she was that naive. He looked back at his leg. It was really quite shocking, basically just facing the totally wrong direction. It was like he was a paper doll that a child carelessly bent in unimaginable ways. He wasn't made of paper, of course, and because of that, he bleeds and he might have thought there was a jagged piece of bone sticking through too.

"Shit." He whispered, shaking his head. He wasn't even truly angry he'd saved Elizabeth. He was a little, admittedly, but more he was just…sad. This was how he was going to die, wasn't it? He couldn't walk at all, he was bleeding heavily, and worst anyone could come along and off him easily. He was royally fucked.

Elizabeth was blubbering, but helped him shift a bit so he could at least lean against the rocky wall. It hurt even to move millimeters over, but at least he wasn't straining his back to keep himself supported anymore. She sat next to him.

"You should go." He said, voice low and rough.

"Why?"

"I'm going to die here, Elizabeth. No point of you dying as well."

Elizabeth seemed taken back. She shook her head firmly, "No. I won't…you saved me. I can at least stay here, try to help."

"Are you secretly a doctor?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but-,"

"I'm okay." He tried to sound positive, but he just couldn't get the right inclination into his voice. Elizabeth caught on, and rummaged through her bag. She pulled out a ratty looking dragon, and Ron almost laughed at the absurdity of it. True, she was thirteen, but she'd brought a stuffed animal into the area as her singular item? Instead, he settled for a snort.

"What's that?" He wasn't really interested, but he doubted she'd taken it out just for shits and giggles.

"It's…special to me. My grandma made it, apparently, and gave it to my mum. There's a bigger version of it, which my brother has. We both are very connected to these dragon toys. When I was six and I broke my arm falling out of a tree, my mum gave this to me in the emergency room. She said it would keep me safe. Obviously, I'd already broken a bone, so I knew it wasn't that powerful, but it still felt magical to me. A dragon, you know. They don't exist in my world, or I thought they didn't. I always wished so vividly that they were real. Even now, I still think there are clings of magic, like static here. I wonder which mum it really belonged to-," Ron didn't understand that statement at all, but didn't interrupt her, as it seemed a side-comment more than anything, "It's been through a lot with me. Always made me feel better. I told Luna about it, and she put a protection spell on it." She smiled.

"She did?" Ron couldn't help but ask, angry that she brought up her name, but craving to hear anything about his beloved at this moment.

"Yeah. I talked to her that she should take it. I was going to give it to her, Luna that is."

"Why?"

"The baby, if it was there." Ron stiffened. He wasn't sure anyone had ever said it out loud, that the wizarding world didn't actually know. Now they did, he supposed. Maybe they should, "I know the rules. You or Luna would make it out, and we both know you would have killed yourself if it meant her making it out alive."

"Aye." Ron nodded, agreeing, a bitter bile rising up his throat, "Without hesitation."

"I'm not going to make it out, likely. And this dragon, it always reminded me of the people that loved me and the world I truly belonged it. It brought me luck and it sounds silly, but in some ways, it's protected me. I thought it would be nice for it to passed along to someone worthy of it, your and Luna's child. There's no one else I could have imagined being a better person. Luna agreed to take it if I died. She had begun to charm it so that if she had a baby, it would always feel her presence. I still can." She handed it to Ron, "So if you do die here, you can feel Luna with you."

Ron took it, and was overwhelmed by the scent of Luna. But it was more than that, it was the memory of her warm hands around his, her lighthearted giggle, the way she tied her hair back when she was really concentration on things. He wiped away a tear, staring at the little dragon toy that at its appearance had seemed so inconspicuous. Underneath it, he felt Elizabeth within the toy too. The thrill of getting her Hogwart's letter, the first time at the castle and in Diagon Alley, the excitement when she felt her wand for the first time. He could feel more than one protection spell on it, and, most potently…mother's love.

"I…" He looked at Elizabeth and saw big fat tears in her eyes.

"I'm so guilty. I feel awful everyday that I killed Luna. I'm so sorry Ron, I'm so sorry. I took everything away from you, no wonder you hate me."

But in that moment, even though she was admitting everything he did think he hated her for, he found no distain toward her. Absolutely none. In fact, his hate seemed to have washed away like chalk in the rain. He felt guilty himself for being so cruel to her when she herself was so much like a child. He felt awful for letting her believe he felt this way. He was sorry about it all too.

He'd always thought when she said all that she'd just said to him out in the open like that, he'd feel triumph. He'd sneer and her and he'd tell her she should feel sorry, but now, hearing it…he just felt kind of shitty.

"Don't…it's fine. Well, it's not really fine, but it's not your fault either." He assured softly. Elizabeth nodded softly, but he wasn't sure she believed him, "I don't blame you. I'm not angry. Not anymore." He said truthfully.

"I suppose the view of an imminent death changes perspectives." Elizabeth said hollowly, and stared at his leg.

"Yeah." He played with the wing of the dragon toy, "Erm, sorry. Here." He tried to give it back to her. Elizabeth gave a trifle of a laugh.

"Keep it. It looks like you need it more right now." She said, shaking her head.

"I suppose." He plopped it back onto his lap, shoulders sagging. He looked at the sky; at least it wasn't raining out or something. Not a bad place to die; however long it would take. He just hoped his family wasn't watching…

THEGREENGAMES

Hermione awoke first. She found Collin snoring, his limbs around her like a puzzle, and she carefully untangled herself. When she left, he mumbled a bit in his sleep, turned and proceeded to sprawl out across the length of the remaining space. If Hermione had wanted to return, now it would make it nearly impossible.

Her side was feeling loads better, although she dare not look, but she was also confident in Draco's abilities by this point. Speaking of the devil, Draco was curled up in an impossibly small ball on his little bed, tightened like a coil waiting to pop. She wondered, even with the generous influx of food yesterday and the hearty meal, if he was getting enough to eat? His shoulder blades popped out through his tee shirt, and she could see the places where the rest of his shirt didn't fall around his limber body quite right. As healers often were, they were oblivious of their own issues up until it was too late. She hoped this game would end soon, because it meant another healer forced to take care of him, because so far, no one had thought perhaps he needed help too?

Except now, but Hermione wouldn't even know where to begin, other than she could tell when someone was underfed. Yet who wasn't here? If she had a mirror, she'd see the same gaunt features on her own face, she was sure. Colin was faring well, but he'd had quite a bit of muscle mass built up before the games began, so his decline wasn't as obvious.

There was a tinkling from above.

Hermione early jumped out of the alcove to catch the parcel before it hit the ground. Her fingers trembled with excitement when she saw her name on the little card, and she went back into the cave and tore into it like the first gift on Christmas morning.

She seized the manila letter first.

Hermione,

Thank Merlin you're ok. I'm sure you know by now the nasty business of the boggarts-we couldn't do anything for 24 hours, or you know we would have. Although, seems you faired just fine. Sorry what you went through, though, luv. We saw them, everyone did- Seamus and Harry that is. Mum cried; Harry looks so…old. I know it was just what your mind created, but it fits him, however the case.

I'll begrudgingly admit I'm glad Malfoy's alive too. The pair of you seems to be the only thing keeping each other alive. I like you, of course, and you'd be dead without Draco, and well the logic goes from there. He's not the worst, from what we've seen over here on our side. If only he wasn't such a prat at school, I might actually like him now.

I've sent some items in little bags; the items we discussed during training. You can't see it, but I can, Hermione. I've been in your position before. The boggarts were the catalyst to the end. I wish you didn't have to use these so soon, but the end is going to come sooner than you think. The game makers are growing restless, more things will come, more deaths. Use these when you must so you won't be one.

I've also herd rumors of their plans. I can't tell you, otherwise this letter would have never been allowed through, but let's just say that if something goes into play, we might see each other soon. Or rather, you'll be able to see all of us. It won't come without its trials though. Be vigilant.

Also, my brother and Elizabeth are just up the ridge from your camp. Last I saw they were resting. If you go now, you might be able to catch them. These items are for both of you; I could only send them to one person, and I knew you would have a better chance of finding him than he finding you. Also, you're generally more responsible (don't tell him that through, he's already going to be a little pissy I'm not sending him letters.)

Stay safe; stay alive.

-Fred

Excitement grasped onto Hermione tightly, and she had to re-read the last sentence over four times. She was so focused; she ripped part of the paper off in her tightened grip.

Just as she went to go off to find him (what Draco and Colin wouldn't need to know wouldn't hurt them; she'd be back before they woke) the world around her shook.

Colin stumbled off the bed, face planting on the floor, while Draco rolled over groggily.

"Just an earthquake." He mumbled, irritated but yet calm as though he was informing them of the weather, "Can't hurt us. Put strengthening spells on the cave." Even as he spoke, Hermione did notice a lack of dust falling over them. Colin raised an eyebrow.

"You're just going back to sleep, then?"

Draco sat up petulantly, "Well, yes, if you'd stop talking. It's already over, isn't it?" He said, although the question was rhetorical; the shaking had indeed stopped.

"Did you know it was going to happen?" Hermione questioned. Draco stared at her.

"Yes, I forgot to tell you, I can predict natural disasters now, or rather the game maker's every moves." He said in a totally sincere voice, and Colin just scoffed.

"Look, it doesn't matter to us. We're fine here, as long as we don't go out. Things might be dislodged." He said. He was settling back down when he saw a look on Hermione's face, "No."

"What?"

"I know that look. It's right before a Gryffindor does something idiotic. You're not going out." He said crossly.

"I have to." Hermione said, standing, "Fred sent me a letter. Ron and Elizabeth aren't far from us at all!"

"And what makes you think after that they're still there?" Draco questioned.

"I would hate myself if I didn't check. I'm going out anyway. When were you ever able to control me before?" She asked with a devious smile.

Draco locked his jaw. "Fine." He threw out, "I'm going with you then. That earthquake was nasty, they might be injured. Or you might get hurt out there, with our track record. Colin, stay here." He ordered, seeing movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Why?" Colin wailed, "I knew them too!"

"We need someone to stay back. You know if I had partners with Slytherins- sensible people, mind you- they wouldn't want to be going off into the a bloody forest on the off-chance someone they sort of talk to or feel some odd obligation might still be there." Draco muttered.

"I detest that." Hermione growled.

"What part?"

"All of it."

Draco just laughed.

They place Fred described was a twenty-minute walk away. Now that they were alone, Hermione felt herself drawing closer to him, wanting to ask the question burning on the back of her mind so many times and yet…he didn't say a singular word to her. She wondered if he was still just dealing with the whole Blaise situation.

There were voices up a head. Hermione surged forward, while Draco jumped out to catch her and pull her back but Hermione could not be stopped. She broke into the clearing of white rocks and trees fallen all over.

"Blimey, Hermione?"

She looked over, blinking in surprise and relief, but before she could say anything, Elizabeth had wrapped herself around her in a strong hug.

"You're alive!" Elizabeth said, "I thought you all were dead!"

"So did I." Hermione ruffled her hair, "Thank Merlin you're here." She breathed.

"Well, I couldn't really go much else." Ron said, and Hermione cocked her head in confusion. Elizabeth gave a grimace. She followed the young girl's sight line and felt ill.

"Your leg."

It simply did not look right at all.

Draco whacked some bushes back, appearing behind Hermione. "I assume you haven't screamed and therefore it's safe." He said pointedly, sending a look at Hermione. She felt a blush rise up.

"Oh, yes, of course. It's all fine."

Draco's eyes softened when he saw Elizabeth, although he only gave her a nod of acknowledgement. She relaxed a little too, and looked less worried. Hermione forgot that Draco had apparently saved her. Draco looked at her companion, and stiffened.

"Weasel."

"Ferret." Ron replied with the same amount of veiled venom. Despite Draco's warm feelings toward Hermione didn't mean he liked Ron apparently any more than in school.

"Malfoy, you have to save him. He's hurt." Elizabeth broke in, "The rocks from the earthquake crushed his leg."

"He's not touching me." Ron tried to back away feebly.

"Don't be so melodramatic." Hermione found herself irate with him quickly, "You'll die, Ron."

"Might as well. I can't believe you're even with him." Ron said, looking at Hermione with a look of betrayal. The words of her boggart flooded back into her mind, up her throat. She was about to go off on Ron, but Draco had already gone to his side. Ron was backed up against a wall; he flinched like he'd been smacked when Draco poked his leg.

"Are you usually this insufferable or is it the detached leg?" He asked dryly.

"How do I know you're not going to kill me?" He questioned, which, in itself was a logical question…if you knew nothing about Draco's last couple years at all.

"That's the opposite of what healers do. It's pretty much illegal and generally frowned upon." Draco replied just as evenly, and Hermione could see the wheels in his brain already spinning, trying to imagine how to save his limb.

"But it's the Green Games!" Ron squawked.

"And I'm a Gemini." Draco snapped, and looked at Ron with mirth, "Oh? I thought we were just saying completely unrelated and unhelpful things? Guess not."

Elizabeth muffled a laugh behind her hand, and Ron sent her a very evil look.

"Sorry." She said, then swooshed down to his level, "But Draco's right. Not about the Gemini thing, I mean, he might be, but what other choice do you have?"

"Fred sent us." Hermione broke in, telling a little white lie. Fred hadn't sent Draco, not exactly…he hadn't even known about the injury when he sent the note. She continued, although Ron was now looking at everyone as though they'd all gotten together and killed a puppy, " You know how you feel about Dra-Malfoy. You think he'd send him if you had any other chance? Is this how you want to die, Ronald, really? That your mother will have to tell people that you died because you were too damn stubborn?"

"Don't you bring mum into this!" Ron roared, "Ow! Why don't you just drill the whole thing off, eh?" He rounded on Draco as the blond began to experimentally examine his leg.

"Well…" Draco coughed, "No, never mind. It can be salvaged." He rocked back on his heels, looking at Hermione as he spoke.

"Good. Do we move him?"

"I can't heal him here. I have nothing and we're out in the open." Draco said, "it's risky, but we have to move him. Elizabeth, I need you to help me make a brace for him."

"Okay." She agreed readily. Draco got up to get supplies. When he saw Hermione's face, he sighed.

"She's got good healer instincts. Don't be offended, it makes that pretty face oh so unappealing." He winked, leaving Hermione baffled and confused. Elizabeth and Draco worked quickly. Draco kept checking the forest, biting his lip nervously. Soon, it was done.

"Hermione, I need you to help support him while he walks. Elizabeth is too short and I don't' think he wants me touching him."

"Damn right." Ron muttered, and brightened a bit when Hermione arrived. She helped him too his feet, and felt the grunt of his body when they took the first step. He hissed loudly.

"It's not far." She assured.

Draco took the front and Elizabeth the back, both of them surveying the forest carefully.

"How are you?" She asked, looking at his dirt-stained face.

"Obviously I've been better." He mumbled, frowning, "Stupid, I guess. If you hadn't come along…" He swallowed, "You know."

"Yeah." She sighed, "He'll help you. I promise."

Ron didn't reply.

Back at the camp, Colin sprung to Ron's other side, helping Hermione lower him into the bed. Ron saw Colin, and looked around.

"Seamus?" He questioned, and Hermione felt her heart tighten. All she could manage was a stiff shake of her head.

"Luna?" She asked back, although she already knew. Yet she wanted it to be false, that maybe she'd escaped the maker's vision like her and Seamus did, that Ron would smile and nod with conviction. Yet, his whole face just shut down.

When he looked back up, his eyes catching with Hermione's, it was like they both were looking in a mirror. She remembered that look on their faces once before, when they lost Harry. That look took her back years ago, to the day she wanted to erase from her brain. At the same time she wanted to tell Ron she'd seen Harry, and he was still here with them, in a way. But she couldn't, and she didn't know why.

Draco, Colin, and Elizabeth began work on Ron's leg. She sat next to him, staring off into the darkness of the forest. Out of the blue, Ron's hand shot out and grabbed Hermione's. She, although surprised, looked over to see his face scrunched up in pain, and when he noticed what he'd grabbed, he began to withdraw it. She instead held tighter, squeezing it in comfort.

The second smile brought her back even further, to their first year. Back when they were young and naïve and friends before. She almost wanted to stay there. It was so much more pleasant than real life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco's cave is getting very crowded, much to his protest and annoyance ;) Making even less alone time to deal with the whole TLK. Mwahahaha.
> 
> Living List:
> 
> Gryffindor: Ron, Colin, Hermione
> 
> Hufflepuff: Hannah
> 
> Ravenclaw: Mandy, Elizabeth, Caligula
> 
> Slytherin: Draco, Tracy, Pike, Pansy
> 
> The Fears:
> 
> Ron- Spiders
> 
> Colin- His own blood
> 
> Hermione- being judged/disappointing people she cares most about
> 
> Hannah: Blaise and Corner
> 
> Corner- rats
> 
> Elizabeth- Can't tell you, or at least explain it properly for another couple chapters.
> 
> Mandy- Dogs and rabies
> 
> Caligula- the dark
> 
> Draco- being punished by Voldemort for what he's done, ie; being given the Dementor's Kiss, and therefore missing out on the rest of his life
> 
> Tracy- being buried alive
> 
> Pike- Snakes
> 
> Pansy- failure in her mother's eyes, not being good enough in everyone elses
> 
> As I said, I put a lot of my own fears into this. Some are more intense than others. For example, I really hate spiders. It's pretty much a fear. I can't even really kill them without having a major freak out. There's just something about them. I'm pretty darn queasy. I hate seeing other's blood, and faint at the sight of my own (periods don't bother me though; I can't explain it). I'm not a huge fan of dogs and I'm pretty wary around them. Big dogs could literally bowl me over and I just don't like the height small yappy dogs are at, ie perfect ankle biting height. Usually the dark itself doesn't bother me, in fact I prefer to sleep in a totally black room, but if I watch a scary movie I'll have the lights on for like a week. I also often have like vivid night-terrors where I wake up and I'm positive the coat on my chair is a monster, or the popcorn ceilings are a thousand spiders moving around. So, like Cal, I'm afraid of what I can't properly see in the dark.
> 
> But the one I identify the most with is Draco's, in a vague way. I'm terribly scared of my own death. I think it more comes down to leaving before I feel I've completed my life. I don't want to talk about it much, because I might give myself a panic attack.
> 
> Now that I've spilled my guts in a terribly intimate way, please review ;)


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blimey, it's been two months, hasn't it? I'm not even sure why it took so long to get this out. I mean, sometimes I just can't find the words to start it, and stare at the next chapter plans forever, but I actually had around 15 pages of this already written when i came back to it today...
> 
> Anyway, you guys get 26 glorious pages today in one sitting! I was going to cut it in two, but I couldn't and had good reasons. First off, with the time you've waited, you deserve two chapters worth. Also, the further I got into this the more awkward it was trying to find a place to cut it off. The sections become increasingly longer with each one, so like by the midway point there were only two or so scenes left in the rest of the pages to fill up a whole second chapter, and that seemed a little anti-climatic. Also, I put a lot of hints about what's to come in this chapter, and after awhile it might become obvious, and if I were to cut it off, the sense of what's coming would be ruined and all. Even if you do guess, it's better to read it all in one sitting than waiting even a week for the next or what you think will happen.
> 
> I don't think anyone will be complaining about the length of this though. The contents? Just know I love you all in advance and keep that in mind that you love me too XD

The morning was awkward for Ron Weasley.

Not merely because of the circumstances, but because he was pretty sure he had cried. It wasn't totally his fault though; stupid Malfoy decided his leg needed cauterizing, and Colin had seemed far too excited to shove a blazing hot blade of metal against his leg when he was only half-awake. Only Hermione really seemed to wince at his yells, Draco had the audacity to look annoyed.

So what if he cried? It had really hurt, and it was a bloody awful way of waking a guest.

But he couldn't contemplate it too far; for he was soon summoned into sleep once again.

Hermione sat with him as everyone else hurried about, away from him. Ron was stable, according to Draco, and he'd likely be fine. She saw the moment of disgust in his eyes, and she knew she'd have to get Ron to thank him later, or she'd thank Draco on his behalf. He could deny healing Ron if he had wanted, but he didn't. It showed hugely on Draco's part, hopefully proving the people once again he had truly changed.

Colin cleaned off the sword used to cauterize the wound, Hermione's dagger, and gave it back to her and went off to find some soft tree fronds to accommodate the new members with something to rest on. Elizabeth slipped away unnoticed to Hermione, a contemplative look on her face. Draco went around, checking the stores of the medicine and then muttering something about finding breakfast as he took himself out of the sightline of Ron.

Hermione sat by Ron, feeling no other urges than to be here when one of her oldest friends woke up. She rubbed his hand lightly, sighing. She'd fancied him when they were younger, a little. Often she wondered how things might have turned out in a other world if Harry hadn't died, if they'd never grown apart? Then again, he loved Luna so passionately; she'd never want to take that away from him.

He muttered his name in his sleep with a slight smile, and it felt strangely familiar. It was almost like a dream, or a bittersweet memory from a world far away that she once lived, but no longer did, a taste beneath her lips she couldn't place.

Ron rolled over, blinking wearily at her.

"Mione." He breathed in relief, "Is the ferret gone?"

"That ferret saved your life, and your leg." Hermione chastised with a poke to his shoulder, "But yes." She said, and saw him visibly relax.

"I remember crying a bit. I totally embarrassed myself this morning, didn't I?" Ron asked, muttering.

"Not at all." Hermione assured, although she had been rather surprised by it, but understood his reaction nevertheless- painkillers were in short supply here. She wasn't about to let him know that, though.

"Good." Ron sat up a bit, glancing around, the first time truly seeing the shelter, "Not awful. Not the manor like he's used to, I suppose. How do ya think he even manages?" He asked with a scoff.

"Ronald…" Hermione sighed.

"You've gone soft, Hermione." Ron fluffed the sleeping bag pillow behind him; "He probably saved me so he didn't look bad on TV." Hermione bit her tongue. Anyway, Ron was obviously done talking about Draco, thankful; Hermione wasn't sure she could say much else to pacify him, and if he knew that she'd kissed him? Merlin, heads would roll.

Ron looked at her; a frown settled on his face, "Did Seamus…was he in pain when he died?"

Hermione felt something within her freeze. It wasn't unexpected he'd want to know, but Hermione still felt as though she'd been whiplashed, and her heart stung. She thought back to those awful moments, the shift of Pansy's hands and the echoing crack as the lights just flickered out, hardly more than two seconds in between living and dead.

"No, not at all." Hermione said, "He likely never even felt it." It was the truth, something that perhaps she should be grateful for. But Pansy likely could feel the best way to inflict torture would to be to kill him before Hermione could intervene and save him. Quick; no qualms, no chance for miracles.

"That's good." Ron's voice was deadly soft. Then, he shot her a goofy grin; "You knew he held quite the candle for you? Merlin, he'd go on about you for hours in the room! For years he pined over you. It was a little pathetic really." Ron winked, clearly jesting about the last part. She doubted he could be cruel about a dead housemate. He also clearly thought that this was new information for her, and watched her closely.

"I know." Hermione smiled warmly, because hearing another person say it, for some reason made her feel better. Ron gave a slow clap of his hands.

"Go, Seamus! I didn't think he had the guts to tell you." Ron said, surprised.

"Oh," Hermione let out a tinkle of laughter, "I always knew." Ron's jaw opened with surprise, "You boys are not quite as subtle about liking a girl as you think. We just pretend we have no idea." She laughed, and Ron's face turned bright red.

He groaned, "So you could tell me every crush I've ever had?" He asked, wincing.

"Oh, yes." Hermione assured, patting his arm, "Secrets are safe with me though." Ron laughed, such a pure sound. He licked his lips, looking at Hermione with a more serious frown now.

"How'd he die?"

It was obvious his first question would progress to this second, so she was more prepared for it. "Pansy." She spat simply, although it wasn't nearly that simple. And Ron had known him, slept in the same room with him, for seven years. Ron deserved the complicated, un-simplified answer, "Well, I mean, she was the one that officially killed him. She snapped his neck. In reality, I would have been the one dead if it weren't for him. I was out looking for you and Elizabeth, actually," She watched Ron's eyebrow shoot up, but he did not speak, "But that obviously didn't happen." A gray cloud settled over her like it often did thinking back on this moment, "I blame myself. He told me not to, but…how can I not? I was so…stupid! I didn't even notice her coming." She threw her dagger into the ground, watching as it sunk halfway into the sand.

"He?"

"I saw him in a dream, after." She answered. But she said no more. She sort of wanted those moments just between them.

"You're lucky." Ron's voice was drenched in sorrow.

"How did Luna die?" She asked.

"A bear, protecting Elizabeth." Ron said, looking away, hiding his face. Then, he turned back, as though he remembered it was Hermione, and she was a loyal friend that wasn't going to judge him, "I wish I could say she died protecting me. To sacrifice yourself for the one you really love, that's-," He couldn't find the words. But Hermione knew all too well, for of course that's what Seamus had done.

It was a long moment before he continued, "But to sacrifice for just someone else? Just someone you think you like? Not even a sister or cousin or something? It's a little hard to swallow. I know I shouldn't be mad, because I know that's how Luna was. She'd save Pike if she saw a glimmer of goodness in him." Ron smiled, and Hermione couldn't help it either. His smile was contagious, for that was exactly how she was- selfless.

"Not Pansy?" She teased.

"No." Ron said rather seriously, "Pansy…I don't even know if she's human anymore." He didn't sound like he was joking now, "I've heard things, I ran into Mandy. That she's being consumed by the darkness of magic. Like…him." Ron said with a forced inflection.

"Voldemort."

Ron flinched violently at his name.

Hermione absorbed his theory, sighing. If that was the case, they should all be really worried and super vigilant. She now realized how right Draco had been; they would need each other to come out alive, if not maybe more people.

"You know?" Ron said suddenly, "I thought I was going to die last night. I wasn't as upset as I should have been about it. I was a bit relieved." He admitted, "I thought I was going to get to see Luna."

Hermione didn't know how to respond, she just crinkled her eyebrows in a mixture of pity and sadness.

"It's just so tiring, you know? Sometimes it would be so easy…just to let go."

"I know." Hermione jumped, saying a little to quickly. Even though Ron had prompted it, he seemed shocked.

"Hermione Granger, give up?" He sputtered, "Who are you and what have you done with her? The Hermione I know, she'd never in a million years stop fighting." He grabbed her hand, "You can't, you hear me. Don't stop fighting."

Hermione thought back to Harry and Ron and Draco saving her life and recalled she'd been given a second, miraculous chance. It sounded so ungrateful, agreeing with him. She didn't want to give up fighting, no now at least. She wanted to be alive on the other side of this.

"Of course, I was being silly." She admonished with conviction, "I have more than a few fights left in me."

"Good." Ron relaxed.

"You don't stop fighting either. I mean, we're Gryffindors! Giving up isn't even in our vocabulary." She teased. Ron waved a hand.

"I think about, I guess, but you're right…it's in my blood to never stop fighting. You shouldn't worry about me, though." He gave her a wicked grin, his whole face lighting up with a joke she didn't yet understand. It reminded her of the Ron she missed most often, the one that existed before Harry's death, and she wanted to capture that Ron forever, "Long before I got picked, Fred and I made a bet about me getting put here." He laughed, "He owes me 100 galleons and I plan on coming to collect!"

TGG

Draco found Elizabeth sitting on the roof of the cave. He didn't even know how she'd managed to shimmy up there because it gave him trouble. But once he was up there…he could tell why she'd take refuge up here. It was peaceful.

"Breakfast is served, ma'am." He said, handing her the cooked eggs. Hermione had said they were a robin's, but he wasn't much in the mood to consider what he was eating. If it could be served sunny-side up, he was eating it.

Elizabeth took it, taking small bites.

"That bad, huh?" Draco whistled, and he wasn't talking about Colin's cooking. Elizabeth looked at him, and she looked so tired.

To the untrained person, they'd look at her and see the same symptoms that plagued the other victims of the games; the gauntness in her cheekbones and her side from lack of proper food, the bags that seemed to hang low from interrupted sleep, the gray tinge to her in general that seemed to match her mood. But Draco, as a healer, saw the words beneath the lines, and it terrified him what he saw.

"Some days are better than others." She whispered, sighing, "There's not many of those anymore."

"I wouldn't think so. It's a mercy you're still alive." Draco scoffed, and then became serious, "You're seriously the strongest person I know, Elizabeth. Stronger than Hermione."

Elizabeth gleamed at his words, but shook her head, "I'm really not. You wouldn't be saying that if I was just like the rest of them. I couldn't survive on my own out here, not a day." She said, setting the food beside her. Draco took it, he was pretty sure she would only throw it up. Shouldn't let it go to waste.

"I could help." Draco offered, "For the pain."

"I'm okay." Elizabeth insisted, "It won't be long now."

He stopped eating, a chill settling over him like death.

"What do you mean?" He demanded harshly, his angry tone scaring even him. He was upset at her, at himself for not doing anything, at this thing, which he knew in his heart he couldn't change.

"I dunno." She was thirteen years old, he often forgot. So young, a child, really, "I just can feel something." She flexed her fingers, "It might not even be me. It might be someone else." Her gaze caught upon Hermione down below them, shaking out the sleeping bags of dust.

Draco stiffened, "No." He growled.

"Some things we cannot help." Elizabeth said, drawing her knees up, "I don't think it would be here, don't worry." She added, smiling widely at Draco, "You two would be cute together."

"I helped her cheat death once-,"

"I doubt you'd get a second chance." Elizabeth pointed out, the same thing he so deeply feared, "Or you'll have to pay for it. All magic comes with a price."

"I know." Draco's features pinched, "Stop reminding me. You're thirteen. Shouldn't we be discussing boys or makeup or something?" He snapped at her. She blinked, uncomprehending, and then she laughed.

"Let's see, there's you- you're basically off the market. Ron wouldn't even do anything, and I think he might hate me. Erm, is Cal still left? I don't even know him! And let's talk about Pike, the psychopath." She said, deadpanned, "Oh! Colin. But he's so sweet, and cute, I guess. Like a golden retriever."

"That's a good way to put it." Draco gave a pearl of laughter, "I see your point. Did you have a boyfriend though? Back at Hogwarts? I had one my third year, you know. Me and Daphne Greengrass."

"It's a little harder now." Elizabeth said, and seemed not to notice she'd spoken, but when she did grew red, "Hogwarts is different growing up than you did." She admonished, and Draco realized she was right, "But that didn't mean I didn't like guys. I guess I just always thought I'd have more time." She threw her hands out in mild frustration, the first sign of her true struggle getting to her.

Draco let out a breath; he didn't even know he'd been holding it in the first place. But her words shook him deeply. "Me too."

He recalled the mixture of shock and terror as his name had been pulled from the bowl. He'd been so ignorant to think that just because his dad was chummy with Lord Voldemort he was untouchable. The blur of being shoved onto stage was just a mash of colors to him, watching helplessly as his father was escorted away after fighting with Umbridge. How no one called out to take his place. When he realized he was alone. When he realized he might have to kill someone.

"I think," Elizabeth tilted her head, thoughtful, "The true fallacy of teenagers is we think we're immortal. You hear that some kid here or there died like this or that and you think 'well, that was him. That won't happen to me' and we go about our way. That we won't contract some awful disease even though the odds are not in our favor. Even with these games, we rely on the chances we don't get picked, that you're too special or too much of nobody to do something like this. I don't even know if everyone in the games truly gets it until they're here…that we're just like anyone else. We have the ability to die, as an individual, as much as the next. It's startling."

"You're thirteen and far too wise." Draco said, standing, unsettled by her words, but joked his emotions away. Elizabeth shrugged.

"I've had a lot of time to think about mortality." She said simply, "Do you mind…letting me alone? Just for a bit."

Draco's eyebrows knit. "Of course, anything." He murmured quietly.

He slid off the rock, and was met with Hermione's inquisitive stare.

"Is Elizabeth up there? I haven't seen her all morning." She questioned.

"Yeah," Draco said, and grabbed her arm as she passed to clamber up, "Just…let her be. She just wants some time alone."

"Is she okay?" Deep concern instantly coated Hermione's face.

"Of course." Draco lied, "She's just…well, there's a lot of us here now. Loud, noisy, what have you." He said, which wasn't a total lie. He himself was a bit wanting Ron to leave already, despite the doctor inside fighting his will.

"Oh, right." Hermione shook her head, waving her hands, "You're right. She's safe there, I guess."

Draco nodded to Hermione, and the two shared an awkward silent moment before he coughed. "We should think about what our plans are in the future, you know? I think the cave was only meant to hold two comfortably. We have five."

"That's a reasonable idea." Hermione said, and he saw the gears turning in her head to her leader mode, "Rations, sleeping patters, plans…I can't imagine the game makers will be happy with us all settled together…" She trailed off.

"Well-,"

"Ron's not leaving. Not yet." Hermione said sharply before he even got the suggestion out.

"How did you-? Never mind." Draco shook his head, "But he should be more grateful. I saved his life." He huffed.

"He is." Hermione assured, touching his shoulder before she realized her arm and hands were moving without her. She was aware he did not flinch away.

"Well, he should be more emotive in his thanks." Draco said. Hermione gave a tight smile, because Draco knew Ron would sooner kneel over and die before he thanked Draco Malfoy. It was nice of Hermione to pretend for him, though. If he did kneel over and die…well, Draco wouldn't be crying, that was for sure.

"We've been friends a long time." Hermione defended him.

"Yeah, yeah." Draco waved her off, "I'm going to go find something. I'll take Colin with me."

"Okay." Hermione frowned, sighing, "I'll watch Ron. Tell you if his condition changes."

Draco could only manage a grunt; he didn't want to hurt Hermione's feelings, but Ron got his blood boiling like no one else. He grabbed Colin, who was drawing in the mud with a knife.

"C'mon." He muttered, "We're going out to find something."

"What kind of thing?"

Draco looked back to see Hermione laughing with Ron and his jaw twitched, "Anything."

TGG

Cal, after the darkness evaporated and the ground stopped shaking, found himself alone and hungry. He'd been so sure of himself when he was retracing his steps, but alas nothing in the forest looked familiar, nor did he manage to find Mandy. He wondered how she was fairing; was she okay? Was she scared? Did she have their food?

He chuckled as he realized it never crossed his mind that perhaps she'd run off with their meager produce, leaving him to die. Somewhere in between her saving his life and he saving hers, he had come to trust her implicitly. Maybe that's where all the trouble really was.

Yet he couldn't imagine her just doing that. The one thing he'd gleaned of her was her staunch loyalty. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins all fought about who was the most loyal to their own, but he secretly knew that Ravenclaws took the cake. They weren't going to brag about it though. He was actually grateful to have been accepted into such a group.

He knew that most of the other houses didn't truly consider him a Ravenclaw, for Voldemort had forced him into their group too late. Before all this, he'd been on an exchange program from America to Durmstrang. In between it all, he'd been caught up in the madness of this dictator, and never gotten to go home. That had been two years ago. The first year had been tough…he didn't know a lot of people at Hogwarts. Anyone who rebelled, and there were many, were killed on the spot. Plus, most of his housemates seemed distrustful toward him.

The second year, this year, had been better. The glimmer that perhaps he'd get to go home was so close he could taste it. Sneak out of the country after Hogwarts, take his family and go deep underground…it wasn't going to be much of a life, but Cal was confident Voldemort would be stopped soon.

And people had been a bit nicer, perhaps. Maybe they had just realized he wasn't going away any time soon. Luna had also been kind to him, he wondered how she was doing now? And Elizabeth; so young and wise always had never uttered a mean word in her life. He had been pained when her name had been called, just below hearing his own name ring out across the clearing.

A deep cough exploded in his throat, and the tinge of sickness coated his mouth in a slimy film. He'd felt the illness creep over him before, but hadn't said anything to Mandy. He didn't want to worry her. But now, left without food or her help, he wondered how long he truly had?

A couple birds led him to a berry bush, raspberries, but they were sour and mushy and the bush only had a meager few. He considered, not for the first time, killing a bird…He shook his head. There was a reason he didn't eat the animals, for they spoke to him. He knew that they'd stop helping him if he betrayed him like that. Then again, how long of his life did he have left, truly?

He wandered back, finding the area that he and Mandy had begun at, their names etched into the tree, but found her nowhere in sight. Their bag was missing too, and he kicked a rock in frustration. He tied his long matted hair back the best he could with a piece of string he kept around his wrist, staring out blankly into the forest. The very will of life had seemingly abandoned him as another echoing cough came up.

He hoped Mandy was in better shape. She had seemed more put together than he had, and he came to truly like the brash girl. They hadn't ever really spoken in school, he knew she had thought him to be a bit of a prince (he was) and he'd thought she was too loud and overbearing (also true). After they'd both mutually accepted their downfalls, they'd managed to become quite the team. And hey, they'd survived this long, hadn't they? That surely meant something.

He looked at the tree, a grimace on his face.

"We almost lived." He muttered, a quiet whisper. He sighed.

He decided to go back to the stream. Something about it called him there, a beckoning. It had been what had separated him and Mandy in the first place. Had he not been so preoccupied there…he could have saved her from whatever got her. He had a sinking feeling she was already dead. There had been a cannon, he was sure.

The river bubbled happily, unaware of the bloodshed of the Green Games that drizzled into the current, and he sat himself on a rock, feet dangling in it. He didn't even see a damn fish, and he was hungry enough to eat a moose. Plus, the coughing and the sickness would only worsen if he didn't get something in him. He wondered what grass tasted like? Probably not very healthy, unfortunately.

A speck caught his eye on the left far on the other side of the bank. He stood abruptly, a deep fire burning through him as the figure took shape. It was a person-digging through his bag, eating his food!

"Hey!" He yelled, splashing through the water, "That's mine!"

He grabbed the person's arm, Tracey, before she could run. He could see a sort of glint in her eyes, one that he did not like. There wasn't even a trace of hunger in her bones, just greed.

"Finders, keepers." She taunted, trying to pull her arm away. Cal was stronger than he seemed, and his fingers were like an iron vise on her arm, gripping her flesh with his nails.

"Give it here, or else." He growled. He was starved. He needed that bag. He'd do anything for it.

Tracy yanked her arm away, holding the bag just out of his reach. Her position was precarious though, and he shoved her roughly, sending her tumbling into the stream. In a flash, before he could process, her arm snapped out and grabbed Cal's leg, sending him down with her.

He breathed in water for a moment, and coughed it out with his sickness. Tracey was trying to get her footing on the slimy rocks that sat below her, and Cal lunged at the bag she held slightly above the water.

He felt her head hit the rocks, and with a flash of triumph snatched the duffle from a limp hand. He was clambering out of the river when he felt her pull him back, a fury in her grip he hadn't thought she had. Blood trickled from a wound on her head into her eyes, her nose dripping circles of red into the water.

He kicked back, but she expected it, and Cal felt a fit of coughs coming on.

He screamed in his head as his body contorted to the illness, leaving him weak and vulnerable. He clawed at a rock near the edge, catching it between his fingers and leaving a bloody trail behind as Tracy pulled him back. He felt as though the water was betraying him, the lapping waves seeming so much more menacing as it welcomed him back under with a deadly slapping sound against the banks.

Tracey got on top of him, holding his head under the waves. He struggled, holding his breath for as long as he could, while also trying to escape her. Hands shoved him under harder, and knocked his head against the rocks. The air escaped him in a cloud of bubbles. Water filed his mouth, and panic made his movements more frantic.

Help me, anyone help me!

He could feel his vision growing blacker, the air loosing to the waterfall invading his body. The world around him grew fainter…fainter…he was so hungry…he'd just wanted his bag…he hoped Mandy was fine…

A flash of white exploded behind his eyes, and that was simply the end of it.

TGG

Tracy heard the cannon and stumbled back in shock as Caligula's body floated to the surface. A stream of red came up from underneath him, as his body floated with the stream, hitting against a collection of logs. She watched motionlessly as his body just bobbed there, his hair fanning out behind him.

The water lapped at her legs, and she touched her skull gently. She wiped a bit of blood from her nose as she realized she should get out of the river. She scrambled to the bank, sitting in surprise at her own actions as she cradled her pounding head in her palms.

She hadn't truly meant to kill him, she'd just been so mad. Who was he to demand things of her, when it was his own fault he'd left his bag unattended? And he'd been so persistent; grabbing her, pushing her to the water…but it was really when she'd hit her head she'd literally seen red. It was the red of the blood that dripped down her face and red of the rage that filled her.

She had just meant to teach him a lesson, leave him coughing up blood and water on the banks while she took his bag and ran. She'd meant to scare him, prove to him that she was the stronger one here, and he shouldn't be so quick to think because she was a women it was going to be easy to overpower her. She'd just meant to let the water fill his mouth before pulling him up…but none of that happened.

It was just sort of a blur, and she couldn't quite recall the choice to leave him under, even when his flailing limbs became feebler and she could almost feel the life leaving his body. She couldn't recall when scaring turned to killing, or when the part of her that was still good or merciful just switched off.

She did remember one thing, and she didn't know how to process it. It was the moment she realized she enjoyed killing him.

Some would fear this revelation, be ashamed of themselves, or afraid of their own strength. Tracey watched her own fingers in amazement instead, flexing them in front of her. She had felt so powerful. She wondered if Pansy had felt this, this feral type of strength that just radiated through her. That she had the power to decide if he lived or died and she'd chosen death. Great Salazar, it was invigorating!

And she wondered how she'd gone all this time without knowing it, thinking Pansy was merely mad for the joy she got from watching life slip away from people's eyes. A giddy glee soared through her. She'd always felt left out as a Slytherin, wondering what had really put her there. She wasn't all too crafty, but liked to take problems head on. She hadn't a chance to see if her means would justify the end, for she didn't push herself to be the best like the others. The others for not being like them taunted her but now, now she knew that she had truly belonged there when she killed Cal and didn't cringe at her actions.

She took the bag from his death grip, cracking his fingers away from it as she stood on a log. She hadn't even truly wanted the food or supplies in here; Marcus supplied her with plenty. It was the principal of the thing, she decided. And now she was going to keep this bag as a war prize. She slung it on her back, wincing at the water that dribbled down her shirt. But she could hardly be concerned with it, for she felt she could take on the world. Her place in the food chain had just become a lot clearer. She was so glad she'd left her old campsite, albeit perfect, for if she'd never found the bag sitting without an owner, she'd never encountered Cal, and she would have never gained the confidence she did now that maybe she could win.

But…she wasn't heartless. Turning back toward the stream, she hauled his body from the water, laying him face-up in the sun, on the softest bed of grass she could find. It was pretty here, and the hovercrafts would find him soon. She did feel a tinge something looking at his limp form, but it was too small and too fleeting to place.

Who cared, anyway? She had an area to overtake.

TGG

Elizabeth slipped away a second time nearing dusk. The tension in the camp was awful, and she'd forced herself to play the peacemaker for the last couple of hours, steering the conversation, keeping a smile on her face. It wasn't even just the tension between Ron and Draco that was palpable, but it was the tension between everyone else. There was the tension between Draco and Hermione that was like the slowest burning romance she'd ever seen and she just sort of wanted to throw them together and force them to kiss, there was the tension between Draco and Colin- a sadness on his part that she couldn't understand, and the loyalty and conflict Draco felt toward him, the tension between Colin and Ron; two former Gryffindors that had never really talked now together sharing sadness, and finally the tension between Ron and Hermione that signaled the end of something. She was pretty sure every time they looked at each other, they were thinking of Harry. How could they not be?

She felt his memory haunt every inch of this forest; especially his two former best friends were together. It was as though every time they spoke, they were invoking an evanescent memory of times before, times that didn't even happen, but should have happened. This much-repressed magic in one place did funny things to emotions, she decided. She might have never been able to feel those lines of emotions between the people so strongly, otherwise.

She finally couldn't take anything anymore. Not trying to ease or strengthen certain tensions, not looking at Hermione or Draco and seeing the pity in their eyes (for different reasons) when they looked at her, and couldn't look at Ron so vulnerable on the bed knowing he almost died and he had hated her and this life had made her not care about that. Colin was the only bearable one, and it was his unwavering naivety that did it in. He didn't know about her, he didn't know what she'd gone through, and he didn't know Ernie at all.

She thought a lot about Ernie.

She wished she could remember more about him, to be honest. She would always remember his kindness, his protection. Yet as the hours wore on, and days multiplied, his face was shifting into the shadows. Maybe if she'd known, she would have spent every moment searching his face, asking about her mother, trying to remember him in all his golden glory in a way that she wished she had before.

She found a snaking tree root that almost formed a cove, soft moss lining the bottom of the ground, and found it comfortable as he bones sighed in relief as she pressed against the tree, the night closing around her. She was still within Draco's ingenious border; otherwise they'd be out looking for her. She thought they might wonder already, but Draco had already paused Hermione once from bothering her earlier today. He understood. She never thought she'd find a solace and sense of relief when she thought about a Slytherin.

She took her dragon onto her lap, and smiled. She pressed a button under one of his wings, and the camera inside of it flickered to life. It seemed all right still, the little red dot now visible blinking with energy.

She didn't trust the game makers. They could cut out or add in whatever they pleased. She'd thought previously that taking a note to her parents during the games might be left up to her. Speaking directly to this camera, insuring they got it if she didn't make it, it was the best she could do.

And today of all days, she felt an intense need to record this video. Well, she'd felt it yesterday, but she hadn't really gotten the chance, and she'd felt too connected to Ron to leave him.

"Hi." She whispered into the eyes of her dragon stuffed animal, "Mom, dad…" Her voice cracked, "Merlin, I miss you." She wiped a couple tears away from her face, "Ada, I'm a mess. I didn't mean to do this, cry all over while recording this. I promised I wouldn't. It's just really getting to me, the games." She sniffled, wiping her sleeve over her eyes.

"No more tears," She said decisively, "Not now."

The recorded letter was almost an hour long, in the end. She wasn't really sure she even talked about anything important, but she just simply talked. She might have even rambled on for longer, had the camera not blinked to show her battery was finally running short. So, although it hurt her to do so, she wrapped it up.

She found the camp to be quieter when she returned. The fire was lazily burning, and Hermione was sleeping on one of the beds. Draco was in a corner, doing something with a plant, and Colin was watching him like a hawk. Ron was far away from the rest, thankfully, and sitting by the fire, staring at his leg with an emotionless expression.

"Hey, Ron." She said, and he jumped, wincing as his leg shifted.

"Where you been?"

"I needed a moment alone." She said, rubbing the soft tuft of fur on her dragon's head, "How are you?"

"Not sure." He winced, "Draco did some other shit to my leg. Hasn't killed me yet, but the night is still young." He chuckled. Looking at his leg, I did look much improved.

"Oi! Colin and I are going to go get a plant not too far from here for Ron and Hermione's wounds. We'll be back soon." Draco called specifically to Elizabeth, nodding tensely at Ron as he left. Ron glowered back. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at their melodrama.

"You should be thankful." She said, "You moved, didn't you?"

"I am." He whispered, "But if you ever tell him that, I will deny it. Don't want him getting a big head about things, do we?" He said. Elizabeth laughed.

"I suppose we don't." She agreed.

She looked down at her dragon, recalling why she'd sought him out in the first place, "Hey Ron? Can you look after this? And if anything happens to me, give it to my parents? I uh, they'll just want it. It's important." She said, looking down.

"What? You think you're going to die soon?" He asked, half joking, but she saw a glimmer of worry.

"No, of course not." She waved her hand, "I just…well, I think you'd be able to protect it better. And if I make it, I won't need it delivered, will I?" She pointed out.

"Fair point." Ron grunted, taking it, "Want a roasted lizard?" He asked, holding up a small lizard poked through a stick, "It's not half bad!"

Her stomach grumbled, but she winced, shaking her head. "I'll pass." She said, "I'm not sure I want to take your word for it."

"Fair enough." He agreed. She watched him.

"You seem to be in a good mood."

"I guess you're right. I'm alive. It was lucky they found us."

"Hermione said Fred told her, right?" Elizabeth frowned, thinking back to the previous night.

"Blimey, you're right." Ron straightened up, "I wonder if the letter's still around. I would really like to read it." He said. Elizabeth smiled; she would give anything for a letter from her brother.

"Its probably still in there. I can't imagine Hermione or anyone else would have a reason to get rid of it." She said, thinking as she glanced to the cave.

"I'm going to look for it. Want to help?" He asked, dragging his leg up to stand.

"I think I'm going to sit here a bit longer. The fire's nice." She said. He shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

TGG

Hermione was fast asleep when Ron entered the cave, about ten yards from where the fire was. Draco had built that fire area today, widened the field so that he and Ron could always be far from each other. It was the singular thing Ron was grateful about. He didn't want to have to see that ferret's face unless…no, there was no unless, he didn't want to see Malfoy period!

He considered waking Hermione to ask where the letter was, but decided that would be mean. He had heard Draco say she hadn't been sleeping lately, and he wasn't going to be the one to change that. See, he respected their friendship, he thought with a superior grunt.

After putting Elizabeth's dragon carefully inside his knapsack, although still unsure why she asked him but feeling responsible for this task now, he turned around to survey the area.

The inside area was small, so Ron was confident if the letter was here, he'd surly find it. He accidentally knocked over a couple vials, breaking one (oops…or was it) in his search, not feeling all that bad at all. He still thought a lot of it was for sure, Draco, a doctor? That was just insane. It was probably poison in those vials anyway, he was dong everyone a favor.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple sheets of paper sticking out from a rock on a shelf. Grinning with glee, he eased the papers out, and looked at the top, eager to see his brother's handwriting. He was a bit hurt Fred wasn't writing him, but at this point he was so desperate to hear from his family he didn't care.

What he found, thought, and was not his brother's letter.

It was a pompous handwriting, which told him immediately it must be Malfoy's family. He eased onto Malfoy's bed, fully intending to read every word. He was positive in these stacks of papers one of the most say something awful about Hermione, something he could take and prove to her that Malfoy hadn't changed a bit since Hogwarts.

He was mostly disappointed, as he read it because there was nothing really that bad about Malfoy, until he became angry. Not just angry in a slight sense, like someone mucked up his order in a restaurant, but seeing red and steaming ears angry.

He heard Malfoy return, and saw Colin go and sit by Elizabeth near the fire. He bolted up, the letter fisted in his hands, and stormed out of the cave to find Draco on the other side of it, hanging up some plants on a line.

He grabbed the bloody bastard by the shoulders, and spun him around. A look of confusion passed over Malfoy's face, but it was fleeting, as next he was reacting to Ron's fist connecting squarely with his face.

Malfoy reeled back, spitting blood.

"What the fuck, Ron?"

Ron's whole body shook. "Don't say my name, you ferret!" He demanded angrily, going back in for another swing. Malfoy ducked, getting out under him.

"What have I done? I bloody saved your life! I saved Hermione's life too! I think you should be-"

"Don't say her name either!" Ron grabbed him by his shirt, "Don't look at her, you disgusting bug!"

"Weasley." Malfoy's eyes were as hard as flint as he unhinged Ron's fist from his shirt, "What in the name of your bloody Godric Gryffindor is going on?"

"This is what's going on!" His leg burned with pain, but he hardly noticed it. It was all adrenaline and fury running through his blood, pushing him for Hermione's sake. He threw the crumpled letter at Malfoy's face. Malfoy picked them up, confusion morphing into shock and anger now too.

"You read my personal letters? My god, did your mother never teach you manners, Weasley? Never mind, I know she didn't." He said, angrily snatching up the papers.

"Oh, stop bluffing and stop ignoring the real topic here." Ron said, spitting in his direction.

"I honestly don't know what's gotten you so riled up. You're not the one whose privacy has been invaded." Draco said, trying to side step past him, but Ron put a firm hand on his shoulder, shoving him back.

"I don't know what sort of twisted game you're playing with her, because it obviously is a game- people like you can't have feelings, but you need to back off." He said in a low voice.

Draco actually took a moment to see which letter he'd read. A strangled laugh came up his throat.

"True Love's Kiss." He said, "This is about Hermione."

"I told you not to say her name!" Ron slammed Draco back into the wall, "You don't even deserve someone like her. She's far too good for you, you evil and manipulating little…little…"

"And here I thought you had increased your vocabulary. Shame." Draco said, trying to wriggle from Ron's grip, "And, as it were, I don't really think what Hermione feels or doesn't feel is any of your concern."

"Of course it's my concern!" Ron thundered, "You've obviously magicked her somehow! A love potion, a spell, a charm, something! Because if she really saw you, like I do, she'd be so disgusted with what she saw. She'd be horrified." He saw an interior flinch, and a sense of triumph rose within him, "She lost someone she loved. She needs her feelings protected from creeps like you that are obviously trying to take advantage of her nature. It's sick, Malfoy. You have her convinced that through a stupid kiss she saved you. That…that…" He shook his head, "I don't' know what she's thinking or what you think you're getting out of this, but I'm putting a stop to it!"

Draco was quiet for a moment, and Ron saw his fists clenching and unclenching. When he met Ron's eyes, there was a storm ranging within them that Ron had never seen in the blonds' eyes before. Yet when he spoke, his voice was eerily calm, just his jaw twitched in a way that showed he was holding in a tsunami

"You know nothing about her, do you?" He asked, his voice as level as a pond on a summer's day, "You and she haven't talked for years, because if you did, you'd know she doesn't need anyone protecting her. She's fully capable of defending herself, ginger idiots aside. If she did need anything, it would be someone that saw her as an equal. You obviously see her as someone whose lost and confused. Maybe she did love him, maybe she is grieving, but that hasn't reduced her to a sobbing, helpless puddle, but in fact she's the strongest damn person I know. She's also a thousand times better than you, and she saved me out of the goodness of her own heart, not thinking she'd get anything back or that she owed me anything. She is smart enough to realize when she's being deceived, and I am actually an honorable person, despite what you might think. She has her opinions and I bloody respect them, Weasley. I haven't forced her to to think or feel anything. If you think anyone could be in charge of her own emotions and feelings beside herself, you've clearly been out of touch with Hermione Granger well, all her life."

Ron stared at Malfoy, his jaw dropping. Almost like he'd been burned, his hand sprung back, as he stared at the boy in front of him. Utter revulsion plagued his face as he shook his head.

"Bloody cor!" He cursed, shaking his head in utter disbelief, "You're…you're actually fucking in love with her, Malfoy!"

Draco didn't say a word, but held Ron's steady gaze, his fingers twitching.

"And what makes you think she'd even like you back?" Ron sneered, a dark look coming over his face.

"I don't expect her to." Draco said quietly, "She doesn't need to."

"She won't, of course. She couldn't love someone that called her a mudblood." Draco flinched visibly here, and Ron chuckled, "Not someone that's a pompous arse like you are. Even she has standards."

Draco's eyes snapped up, "Even she?" He asked.

"I love Hermione, but I mean, she has ruddy taste in guys." He laughed, like it was a causal joke between friends, but even if it were, Malfoy's blood boiled, "Seamus was alight, but Krum? McLaggen?"

"You ass." Draco said, "I don't even know how's she's friends with you! You're absolutely awful!"

Ron's fist came out again. "Say that again, Malfoy!"

"Don't mind if I do!" He lunged at Ron. He was really considering killing this idiot for real!

"Stop it!" Draco felt someone wedging themselves between them, and saw Hermione, eyes blazing with fury. She looked between them-Draco's slip lip and shiner on his cheekbone, a long scratch down Ron's neck from Draco's fingernails, the two men staring each other down like they were actually considering offing the other. Colin and Elizabeth were not far behind, both staring with wide eyes at the scuffling boys.

"What in the world is going on?" She demanded, lips tight and eyes glowing with rage.

"He's in love with you!" Ron burst out, throwing his arm toward Draco, "Bloody stupid, right? Tell him you hate him, don't' you!"

"Sod off, Ron!" Draco said, wiping across his nose, "Don't put her in the middle of this."

"She is the fucking middle of this!"

Ron turned back to Hermione to see her eyes wide, unsure, "Tell him, ya?"

"I…I don't know what to say." She said, catching Draco's eyes. He looked down, shame running through his cheeks. A small part of him feared Ron was right, that she'd never even like someone like him.

"Tell him he's obviously delusional and you don't love him. That's obviously what you feel, Hermione."

"And since when did you become a master on my feelings, Ronald?" Hermione's voice was sharp, pointed.

"I…" Ron floundered, "You don't like him, do you?"

"Whether I do or not is none of your concern." Hermione said, stomping her foot, "And my god, how childish are you? We need each other now! We can't be killing each other off."

Both boys had the good sense to look ashamed at this.

"Hermione, I'm just looking out for you." Ron said a bit softer.

"I know, but I can look out for my own feelings, thank you very much." Hermione said, her voice cooling, "Are you okay?" She asked.

"Fine thanks, just a couple hits," Ron began, but Hermione cut him off with an annoyed look.

"I was talking to Draco, actually."

Ron stared at her, and stormed past her. "Bloody hell, I don't even know you anymore!"

Elizabeth and Colin moved to follow him as Hermione knelt down by Draco, but Draco was the one who spoke up.

"Let him go. He needs to blow off steam. It's the Gryffindor way." He added wryly.

"Ron shouldn't have done that." Hermione said tensely, touching Draco's cheek tenderly. She realized that both Colin and Elizabeth were still behind her, watching them, but she couldn't be tempted to care.

"I'm okay." Draco said with a small, careful smile her way, "Nothing broken. It was worth it. He's an ass, Hermione."

"Sometimes." She agreed with a laugh, "He…he just feels as though he should protect me. I think he feels guilty."

Draco was about to say something else when he stiffened.

"Ron went through the barrier. He's out of the protection circle." He said.

"What?" Hermione recoiled, "Why would he? Oh, no." She stood quickly, and turned to see Elizabeth running after where he went, "Elizabeth! Stay in the circle!"

"I need to find him!" Elizabeth called back, and was gone out of it too before anyone could react.

"I need to go after them." Hermione turned to Draco.

"After her, or Ron?" He asked sourly.

"Stop it!" Hermione hit his shoulder, "Ron is still my friend. I don't expect you to care about him, or to go too." She added.

"I won't be." He growled, then sighed, "Bring them both back safe. You're right…we should be together, not apart."

"I'm going too." Colin said, "She's still hurt, so is Ron. Hopefully they won't get far."

"Okay. I'll be waiting here." Draco agreed. He caught Hermione's hand as she stood, "Be careful." He hoped she understood everything more he was trying to say. She squeezed his hand.

"I will." In a way, it seemed she did.

TGG

Elizabeth bolted after Ron. He was confused and hurt and wasn't thinking straight. He was also wounded, and he needs to be back in camp! She felt obligated to help him, but more selfishly, he need to live so he could deliver the dragon!

"Ron!" She yelled, and then clamped her hand over her mouth. She'd forgotten herself in the moment. She'd forgotten that they were in danger, and if anyone heard her, she'd be dead.

Her whole body ached with pain and weariness, but she shoved on. She heard Colin and Hermione calling out for her and Ron, but ignored them. She could see in the full moon a set of foot-prints she hoped were his and she didn't want to loose too much space between them.

If she were feeling perfectly fine, she would have been able to easily catch up. But…time was gaining on her, and she knew she couldn't keep going for much longer. She had to find him before then.

She tripped over a branch, and stumbled on the ground. Her foot caught on something else, and she tugged it forward, thinking it was another tree branch or vine, but it wasn't at all. Something metal clench down on her ankle, and this time-caution be damned-she screamed like bloody murder.

TGG

Hermione heard Elizabeth's scream and her whole body went cold and stiff. Colin and her had slip up a couple yards back, and she was confident they could find their way back. If that was one thing she had learned of Colin, it was that he was a master at maps in his head. He probably had a scene of the whole arena in his noggin, thankfully.

She went in search of Elizabeth's scream, slashing through trees. She stumbled through a bush, and was about to take a step forward when she heard a strangled scream.

"Wait!"

It was Elizabeth.

"Look down!"

Hermione looked at where she was about to set her foot and sucked in a deep breath. It was a bear trap, a large on at that, the metal glittering menacingly in the moonlight. She stepped over it, more careful of her footing now, stumbling through the darkness to where there was a slumped figure on the ground. She waved her hand, "Lumos", she whispered, lighting up her fingertips with light.

Elizabeth sat on the ground dejectedly, tears streaking her mud-stained face, pain firing through every nerve ending on her body. Hermione followed her hand down her body to see her leg caught in a bear-trap, nearly gorged through.

"Elizabeth, we need to get you out of here." She said, her hands hovering, not really quite sure what to do. Hermione had never felt so helpless, so without knowledge. She'd never thought…

"It's no use." Elizabeth's voice was raw.

"What? Don't be silly! I'm sure Draco can save this, it's fine. Ron almost lost a leg, and he survived. You'll be okay, we just need to get you out of it, I swear." Hermione said, and her hand went try to unhinge the beast but Elizabeth grabbed her arm tightly. Something about the strength made Hermione look into Elizabeth's eyes.

"Hermione." She said softly, but with so much resolution it scared her, "I want you, no, I need you to kill me."

"What?" Hermione thundered back away from her, "What? I couldn't. I can't, I can't." She blubbered, "Elizabeth, this isn't…you'll be okay. The pain is bad, I'm sure, but you're not thinking right, really."

"I'm the clearest I've been in days." Elizabeth said, not bothering to wipe another tear down her face, "Hermione, look at the bear trap closely." She instructed. Hermione was to stunned to deny her request, still reeling after the tiny girl asked her to kill her, and saw something besides blood glimmering on the glimmering teeth.

"I don't understand. Do you know what that is?" Hermione said, searching Elizabeth's' face. In response, Elizabeth just pointed up to the stars, where clouds now obscured the moon. It took Hermione a second to understand, and when she did, she felt every hair stand up on her body.

"No." she said, shaking her head, "The game makers wouldn't, they're not-,"

"You so sure?" Elizabeth gave an emotionless laugh, "It makes sense. I wouldn't be in my right mind when I turned. A perfect killing machine. I would kill you and Draco and Ron and Colin and never feel sorry about it until I turned back. I'd be so disgusted with myself after that."

"You can still exist as a werewolf." Hermione said weakly, "I still don't need to kill you. Draco can handle you, I'm sure. We can put a spell on you. Knock you out. It takes twenty minutes for the poison to fully circulate, we still have time, Elizabeth, at least ten minutes!" Hermione pleaded.

"Hermione, please!" Elizabeth's voice had reached a peak of desperation, cracking under a weight Hermione didn't fully understand, "I'm dying."

"Well, yes, I know! We need to get your leg looked at fast, you're going to get an infection if we-,"

"No." Something in Elizabeth's voice stopped all her protests, all her attempts to save her, "I have leukemia. It's…terminal."

There was a quiet silence between them. Elizabeth waved her hand, and Hermione had to slap her hands over her mouth to stifle her cry. Elizabeth already looked dead-she could see every bone in her body, clumps of hair missing, rashes ravaging down her body, bruises and more…and when she looked into her eyes, there was nothing there.

"The only spell I ever became proficient in, nonverbal and wandless, was a glamour spell. It's fitting though." Elizabeth chewed on the inside of her check, looking at Hermione, whose eyes were glimmering with tears. She didn't' even care if it was all pity right now, she felt low, but determined.

Hermione was silent, unsure if she just couldn't find words or if she expected Elizabeth to continue talking. The thirteen-year old took it as a sign she should explain, or perhaps it was just words that needed to be said, and Hermione happened to be here. It struck Hermione how strong she was, to shoulder a disease like this and never have anyone know, to be in so much pain, and still be here now…this girl was like god.

"I was diagnosed late, last May. We missed all the signs, never thought…it snuck up on me. They gave me a year to live. When the Green Games last year came around, I was naive, thinking I could be one of those lucky people to magically beat this death sentence and that I'd get better. That I was special. But as this year rolled around…I knew, I knew I wasn't going to beat it. I knew it was getting to me, that I was going to die. My days ticked down. When I heard the buzz about the Green Games and the preparations starting up again, I just knew."

Elizabeth took a shaking breath, "I went to Umbridge the night before. I didn't even know you could volunteer, or I would have done that. I mean, I had a month at that point to live. Why should I let myself go through that month and die and have a friend of mine also die here when I could just take both of our places, save someone? It seemed like the right thing to do, make something good come out of this diagnosis. Umbridge seemed thrilled. I think the idea of a cancer kid trying to be noble; trying to be brave and strong made her giddy somehow. Or maybe, maybe she actually did take pity on me. I don't know."

"The name she pulled-?" Hermione asked softly.

"Not mine. She just said my name and ripped the card up before anyone could see. She told me, Lisa Turpin. It was Lisa's name. She's so brilliant, you know. She does deserve to live, to make something of her life. I'm glad I could take her place."

"Only Andrew and my parents knew about the diagnosis. They were so angry when I did it, but I had to. I just had to." She seemed weaker, "I thought…I'd maybe make it a day or two? I thought I'd be long dead before the disease ate me away this much. If I don't die tonight, I will either tomorrow or the next day. I know that much, I do. I feel bad, I wasn't ever meant to come out alive, and Ernie saved himself for me. I feel so awful." She began to cry, hot tears running freely down her face.

"Ernie?"

"He's my uncle, and he spent the whole time trying to protect me. I wish I would have known, so I could tell him. I wish he could be here with me. I'm afraid Hermione!" She admitted, and threw what she could into Hermione's arms, her body shaking.

"I wanted to kill myself so many times, be done with it, but I couldn't. I'm such a coward! The disease is winning and I hate it. I would do it myself now, but I can't, Hermione, I just can't. I'm not strong enough." She continued to cry in Hermione's arms.

"There was nothing they could do?" Despite everything she'd said, Hermione clung to the idea that this girl was dying of cancer, and magic couldn't help her. Magic had always helped her. Magic was…magic! She felt betrayed that magic couldn't save this girl, that magic-for the first time in her life-had failed her.

"There are some things beyond our control in life." Elizabeth sniffled, "Some things are meant to be."

"No! You are not meant to die, Elizabeth." Hermione said, "This wasn't your role in this world, I promise you."

"I just seem to bring death wherever I go. My real mom, Ernie, almost Ron, Luna…" Elizabeth's eyes were glassy, "I should have left this game long ago." Hermione wasn't even sure if she was talking about the actual Green Games anymore.

Hermione stared at her, staggered with anger for something she knew she couldn't control, for the way this was. Even as she touched herself on the girl, and she was obviously no doctor, she felt the girls' magic fighting every inch of the darkness killing her on the inside. A non-magical person would have died long ago. Even so, the magic was weak. Elizabeth was right…despite this, she would have had a day or two left.

"Draco?"

"Oh, he knew right away." Elizabeth said, "He always felt bad for me, offering me pain killers and such. The one thing I wanted he couldn't give me; death, a painless one. I guess I wasn't meant to get that." She mused. She looked at the moon, and the clouds were clearing, "Hermione…time's up." The striking slap of the metaphor in her words killed her; not just it was twenty minutes, their time table gone, but it was also all the time gone on Elizabeth's life. And Hermione couldn't come to terms with either.

"No!" Hermione couldn't see, her eyes were filled with so many tears, "I won't accept it. I don't want to kill you. Please, don't make me do this."

"Hermione," Elizabeth curled her fingers around a knife hilt, pushing it into Hermione's form, "You'd be doing me the best favor in the world. And I want you to do it, my friend. Not someone like Pike, or Pansy, or myself-my own worst enemy. I didn't want to be alone when I died. That was my worst fear, what I saw with the boggarts. I know I'm not now…you're here, Hermione. It means something." She said.

"No, no, no." Hermione didn't even care every ounce of her composure was utterly gone, pleading with the Grim Reaper himself to keep this girl here, as useless as it was, "Elizabeth…"

"We couldn't exist here together, in the end. I'm glad it's you and not me." Elizabeth assured, pulling the knife still in Hermione's fingers to her neck. She looked right into Hermione's eyes, and she was crying, but now it was tears of gratitude, "I'm not afraid anymore, Hermione. Don't you understand? I'm not afraid."

Hermione saw her skin begin to shift as the moon's power took hold, and she didn't even feel it as she pulled the knife across her friend's wintery neck. She only heard the sound of the cannon and felt Elizabeth's body go limp against hers, and saw the smile on Elizabeth's face, the fucking insanity of it all. The knife dropped to the ground, and Hermione held onto the painfully small body like it was her own child she'd lost, rocking back and forth and crying, sobbing like when she'd lost Seamus. Elizabeth's blood coated her fingers and stained the girl's wispy blonde hair as she clutched her face to her chest. The blood from her neck poured down Hermione's shirt, soaking it, and she felt it just. She should be marked with the blood, no matter how much-deep down- she knew it had to be done.

It hurt so much she couldn't even breathe, the thought of Elizabeth gone. She didn't even consider the fact she shouldn't be here, in the open like this. After what seemed like forever and no time at all, there were footsteps thundering behind her. She turned around, totally broken, to see Ron, Colin, and Draco.

"I found him." Colin licked his lips, "Ron. Brought him back to camp. Hermione, it's been almost an hour! We've been worried sick. We heard a cannon!"

"Something all three of us agree on." Ron agreed, but still glared at Draco.

"Hermione?" Draco asked, stepping forward. Elizabeth's body was obscured in the shadows, in Hermione's lap facing the other way. They couldn't see her body from this angle. Draco came around to Hermione's front cautiously, and his knees buckled when he saw Elizabeth's body in her arms.

Colin and Ron saw his face and strode around quickly too. Hermione couldn't even form a coherent sentence in their presence, just sobbed to her, never wanting to let the tiny girl go.

"Oh, Hermione." Draco whispered, looking from the knife to the trap to Elizabeth. She realized that he understood it all without needing her to say a word. And she didn't' see any hate or disgust in his eyes, only deep sadness for Elizabeth.

"What happened?" Ron asked, his voice haunted.

"We should get back to camp." Colin whispered.

"I won't leave her here." Hermione found her voice, the veracity in it shocking even herself.

"Of course not." Draco recovered first, and the three boys worked to unhinge the trap as Hermione clung to Elizabeth's body. When they finally untangled it, Hermione only gave Elizabeth to Colin once she realized she couldn't stand properly and Elizabeth was a literal dead weight in her arms. Draco let her lean on him, and for once, Ron had nothing to say about it.

Back in the camp, the three washed her face of dirt and blood. There was a patch of flowers closet o their camp, and the boys took turns going to pluck them and lining her body with such beauty as Hermione struggled to speak what had happened.

"I can't believe she made it that long." Draco said, confirming her story. Not that Hermione really feared any of them would think Hermione killed her for any other reason, but she still had that irrational fear.

Ron opened his mouth, likely to disagree with Draco and call him a liar or something, but instead he looked like he'd been kicked in the gut repeatedly, "Merlin, she knew today. She knew she was going to die. Somehow she knew."

He looked ghostly.

"I know. She told me in not so many words." Draco whispered, "I didn't think she was serious."

"Come away, we should let the people be able to pick her up, so her family can give her a real funeral." Colin said, trying to steer Hermione back toward the shielded camp, but Hermione wrenched her shoulder back.

"I don't think I can leave her."

"You have to." Draco said softly, "Let go, Hermione. She's gone."

Hermione let herself be pushed back into the circle by the three boys. Everyone was clearly affected by her death, everyone looking as though they'd seen hell and been forced to return. She even saw Ron crying, not even bothering to hide his pain.

"I…I'm going to bed." He said. Hermione felt the guilt in his voice, and wanted to go after him. If it hadn't been tonight, it would have been tomorrow or the next day. It was unfortunate circumstance of him running away that led to this. But she let him go, for she felt equally as guilty and she had a hard time convincing herself…how could she convince him?

"I'm going to bed too." Colin just seemed tired of everything, the games, this pain, his own feelings. This was the tipping point for them all. Loosing such a pure soul, "The world is darker without her. She was the last glimmering light of sheer goodness I knew."

No one disagreed wit him.

Hermione sat on the log near the now fire, now only embers, shaking as she cradled her head in her palms. She felt Draco sit next to her, and leaned into his embrace as he put an arm around her shoulders. He rested his head on her head as she burrowed into his shoulder, trying to soak up everything comforting he had to offer, but it could never be enough.

"In a perfect world, you wouldn't have to do that, what you did. This isn't a perfect world, and she's grateful." He whispered.

"I know I had to, but I hate it." Hermione said, no tears seemingly left to cry. She had dried up. She felt gutted, as if someone had gone within her and scooped out everything until there was nothing left but a numbing emptiness, "My god, cancer."

"I know. She asked me more than once for a poison berry or something, but I…I couldn't in good moral conscience give it to her. I'm beginning to think that moral is such a construct…she was in so much pain these last few days. I wish I had, honestly."

"You would have hated yourself." Hermione shook her head, "I'm shouldering this pain so you don't have to."

"I would have shouldered it with you."

She looked up, gratitude swimming in her eyes. She was about to say something, but there was a tinkling from above. They both stood up.

"Cor, who's sending those sorts of things in the middle of the night?" Colin asked sleepily, stumbling out of the cave.

Draco leapt up, bounding over to the message.

"Your dad?" Ron guessed with a slight sneer, getting up also. Draco frowned though, not even commenting on his tone.

"No…" He whispered almost painfully, "The game makers."

The shift in the circle's mood changed immediately.

"What?" Hermione said, coming forward, regaining her normal tone of voice, "What do they want? What is that?"

"It's…an invitation." Draco said, blinking at it.

"To what?" Colin said, leaning in. Hermione took the paper from Draco's fingers, grimacing.

"As you can imagine, nothing good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that was enough feels to last you a couple weeks, eh? Lots of stuff happened in that chapter, lots of connections to the actual HG novels, which you don't see a ton. And sadly, Elizabeth's demise has been coming for many chapters- there's been hints since the original group with Ernie disbanded and Draco found her the first time. It was always going to end like this, because unfortunately, she and Hermione were both muggle-born so only one could survive.
> 
> And now Draco really can't escape his feelings, huh? That's really out in the open...thanks to Ron, and what he thought would hurt Malfoy actually worked against him...maybe next time, Ron!
> 
> Any guesses what sort of invitation they received from the Game Makers?
> 
> LIVING LIST
> 
> Gryffindors: Colin, Hermione, Ron
> 
> SLYTHERINS: Tracey, Pansy, Draco, Pike
> 
> RAVENCLAWS: Mandy
> 
> HUFFLEPUFFS: Hannah
> 
> Remember when there was like all those Ravenclaws left and you all thought there should some Ravenclaw deaths to even the numbers? Lookie, now there's only one left.
> 
> ...too soon?
> 
> Once again, I apologize for being so MIA but school is busy and I'm working on A LOT of projects right now (damn plot bunnies). To prove it, I shall list them all... (all stories I'm currently writing, or currently planning on writing in the near-er future, like within two months)
> 
> 1\. This story, Green Games
> 
> 2\. Dramione epic I'm always writing. Four years, nowhere near being done (unpublished)
> 
> 3\. A Design in Copper and Bronze story,(Fremione) started chap3
> 
> 4\. A Particular Women in a Particular Globe (Jelsa, last chapter)
> 
> 5\. Omphalos epilogue and time line (Hiccelsa, time line written, started epilogue)
> 
> 6\. New Hiccelsa called 'Reversal of Fortune' (planning stages, unpublished)
> 
> 7\. Prota (Bellarke, recently updated twice, on back burner a bit)
> 
> 8\. Long ass supposed to be Bellarke one-shot around a marriage AU still on the Ark (unpublished)
> 
> 9\. Catoniss multi-chap (planning stages, unpublished)
> 
> Whew! So as you can tell, my brain is leaking creative juice all over my carpets...and creative juice don't come out easily! I'm going to try to finish this story up though, it's about time :)
> 
> Anyway, review, even if it's throwing sobbing hate mail at me for killing Elizabeth (she was a fan favorite, which I truly did not see coming). If not, comment on something. I gave you 26 pages worth, I'm sure there's something here you can find to comment on!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And I'm sorry it's been so long. I'm working on many different projects right now because that's what my anxiety wants of me so even though I'm getting words down, nothing is getting finished and or published. really, the only reason I think I'm even updating this chapter is because I wrote it knowing full well I should be doing an art project or doing a paper. Tis is the life of a college student.
> 
> I can't even say when I'll be able to update again, although soon I hope because college is both terribly predictably and terribly unpredictably busy, as it is. My spring break is soon, but that doesn't mean I'll be writing (I'm going on a Disney cruise because I am still a child at heart) but I do hope I'll get a bit done.
> 
> Rest assured though that big exciting things are coming up. I don't really think there's any filler chapters left. This is by far the longest day you'll experience, and I think it's going to be three or even four parts. Already, with this chapter being 23 pages, I'm just barley at the 1/3rd mark of my plan I have for all the things happening, and you never know what might need to be written in at the last moment. So you'll either have (I predict) three 20-25ish pages chapters, or two long chapters, and then two short(er) ones that are 15 pages. I suppose we will see!

"What's that?" Pike jumped for the package at the same time Pansy did.

"What?" Pansy sneered at his hopeful tone, "Think your mummy is sending you cookies and milk?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, likely not milk but-," He paused, frowning, "Hey. No need for that." He grunted. Pansy gave a light grunt of surprise; seemingly he actually sort of had hoped it was. Maybe not cookies, but something from his parents. Pansy, on the other hand, would be happy to never have to talk to her mom again.

She grabbed the canister and revealed the envelope, scanning it quickly before she started to tear it.

"What the hell?" Pike asked, wrenching it from her fingers before she could get it all the way torn, "What's so important you have to tear it?" He asked suspiciously.

"It's nothing that concerns either of us, that's why." Pansy said through gritted teeth, trying to grab it, but Pike thrust his arm high above her. As it passed over his eyes, they widened, seeing the embossed seal.

"It's from the Game Makers." He said, and glared, "And you were going to just destroy it."

"I already read it. I told you it's nothing we need to concern ourselves with." Pansy insisted firmly, trying to jump up to grab it from his hands. She had never really registered their height difference until now; she knew she was shorter than most, but it had never been a problem, until right now. And Pike? Had he always been so towering, she wondered?

Pike read the note out loud, despite having it a couple feet from his face.

"How about a game to liven this game up? What means the most to you; family, your life, safety, or your wand? Let's put your survival where your mouth is. Come to the clearing where you started and find sanctity with a bed for 12 hours, a chance to hold your wand again, and your family and friends waiting to see you…if you make it. You don't get prizes without playing our games, and they're not going to be simple. The end is worth it, or is it? Come or don't come, that's up to you. But don't say we didn't warn you. Come out and play with us, wherever you are."

He finished reading, and stunned, Pansy managed to grab it away from him. She crushed the paper in her hands, flames licking up her fingers and turning it to ashes before his fingers.

"We're staying here." She said firmly in a tone that dared him to defy her. To her utter surprise, he did.

"What if I want to go?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's not worth it." She said with a shrug.

"You don't want to have 12 hours where you aren't worrying about being killed?" HE asked, tilting his head.

"I don't worry about that now."

"You don't want to hold your wand again?" He tried again, and she gave a laugh.

"Honey, I don't need a wand anymore."

"You don't want to see your parents?" This question broke a bit on his end, a sad desperation in his tone that Pansy didn't even know he had. She wasn't quite sure he had feelings, frankly, or affectionate ones to be more precise.

"Not worth it." She said, thinking about how that was a very good way to keep her the hell away from a place. But, seeing his angry and almost hurt expression, she added, "We're going to win. We don't need to see them like the rest of the losers undoubtedly will try to do; they're basically going to be saying good-bye. We'll see them again."

Pike clearly didn't like her answer, perhaps her tone was more haughty than comforting, and his eyes blazed.

"We're not safe here either! Why shouldn't we try if we might have to face the same damn things they're going through?" He questioned, which was indeed a logical one. But Pansy was resilient.

"You don't get it, do you?" She asked, angrier than she could recall. If there was one thing she hated, it was insubordinate. She was tempted to kill him right now, but he was still useful to her. Not yet.

She strode up to him, poking him square in the chest, "It's one thing to be liked and supported, but it's a whole other thing to be hated. Newsflash Webber, we've been branded as the 'baddies'," She made air quotes, "Which means that there will be an artillery of magic being provided to children to kill us there, as if we would be stupid enough to walk right into their trap! So indeed, we are safer here. Let some other home-sick idiot perish in whatever they have planned. If you don't think I'm more than capable of dealing with whatever they throw at us for not playing their game, then perhaps you should go by yourself!" She fired at him.

Pike's jaw clenched for a long moment.

"Maybe I will." He snapped with narrowed eyes.

"Have fun." Pansy went back to where she had her sleeping bag slung up in a hammock, crawling back into the warmth.

She watched Pike storm out of the clearing, and sniggered.

"You're just letting him go?" Daphne gasped, and Pansy turned a lazy eye toward her. Three figures sat on a log, or hovered more like, ever present in her field of vision. She saw the ghosts constantly now, and she sometimes almost saw the darkened connection running between her own magic and their evanescent bodies, but often it was gone when she blinked. It gave her a good enough idea where they were coming from though.

"I'm not worried. He'll come back." She said, closing her eyes and enjoying the slight breeze that whispered through the forest.

"You're so sure." Blaise said, more of an observation than anything else.

"I'm sure she has her reasons." Corner said, and she couldn't help but smile. Seeing him in his ghost form had almost terrified her the first time it had happened, a couple miles away from his corpse. And it had hurt in a way she didn't understand.

She'd briefly had wondered if you could love someone in a very non-linear way, such as loving them only for their brain or for their madness? If that was the case, and you could connect on a more transcendent level, she might be tempted to say she was 'in love' with Corner, but not 'in love' at all, for she reserved those words for Draco. Yet, the idea still stood somewhere in her swarming thoughts, and it bobbed to the surface whenever he spoke. She tried to ignore it. He was dead anyway, and you didn't marry a mind, you married a man.

"Of course." She said, for she was confident he'd return, "I mean, first off, it's dark out. No one, not even me, would wander these woods at night without a death wish. Too many things could happen. Second, he follows me everywhere. This will be no different."

Because he fancies himself in love with the idea of you.

Although Corner didn't say it out loud, Pansy could still hear his thoughts. Was he? She hadn't ever noticed before? Had he noticed because he liked her too, or was he just being a regular and observant Ravenclaw? It would explain a lot, or he was just intelligent enough to know that sticking with her insured survival?

Whatever the case, Pansy wasn't going to comment or question Corner, but let the idea go. What did she care if he loved her, other than that she could bend his will even more, but then again she already held that leash quite tight. Therefore there was nothing to contemplate. Like her or not, he would return.

"I don't know. I've never seen him like that." Blaise said, staring off where he vanished through the bushes.

"He's just being a crybaby." Pansy said, rolling over to attempt to get some sleep, "And if he doesn't return, then he'll likely die or be too cowardly to return, and neither of those are my problems."

There was a heavy sigh from Daphne, "Goodnight Pansy." She whispered, and for a moment, Pansy was twelve and at the Greengrass Mansion, sleeping between a thousand-thread count sheets and satin pillows, and Daphne wasn't dead and the two twittered about how hot Draco Malfoy was all night.

Some things never change, she supposed.

Yet, as she blinked open to respond to Daphne, she realized they were gone although she could almost smell them lingering somewhere in the air.

And that's when she was reminded that actually, inevitably, everything does.

THEGREENGAMES

"Fred? Fred, you there? We got to go, otherwise we're not going to make the deadline." Bill waved a hand in front of his face, while Fred tried to close his hanging jaw. He was going to get to see Ron again, Hermione too. He'd suspected, there had been whispers, but…

"I need five, no ten, minutes." He snapped himself out of his stupor, head already whirling.

"We don't have time." Bill furrowed his brow, "The hoverboard comes in less than that time, and if you're not on it, not only will you not get to see Ron if he makes it, but mum will skin you alive!"

"I just need a couple minutes, okay?" Fred snapped, "It's for them, what I'm doing." He pushed himself up off the chair, trying to orient himself one way or another, but found his head spinning with too many ideas far too quickly.

"Fine. Just be there." Bill said, leaving Fred alone with his thoughts. He spun the corner to call after Bill, but found Ginny throwing a jacket on to leave instead.

"Ginny!" He said, causing his only sister to jump, "You're my sister!" He said, although the full context of his sentence didn't quite make it out. Ginny seemed confused, staring at him with a titled head.

"Gee, Fred. It only took you," She pretended to count on her fingers, "Sixteen years to figure that one out."

"No." Fred ground his teeth, "I mean, you share my mind, my intelligence…I think. I mean, I hope."

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment, but I'm going to pretend that was."

"It was." Fred said, grabbing her by the arm, "We know that the game makers are going to throw hell on earth at them to get to us, and we need to help them." He said, trying to relay the sense of urgency he felt.

"Of course. But how?" Ginny asked.

"I had some plans drawn up…things that could save them in tough spots. I taught Ron and Hermione how to signal for them, but now I'll be gone so even if they were, no one else knows the formulas. We need to think like those bastards and have someone-is Neville staying behind? Maybe Terry-, gather the balls with my instructions to send down."

"We couldn't possibly guess what the game makers are going to do." Ginny said, leafing through the plans Fred had dumped on the floor unceremoniously.

"Then we need to pick some that will help them in a generic situation. They have to make it." Fred said in a firm tone, and Ginny nodded in agreement.

"I need to see Ron again…even if-,"

"No, don't say it." Fred shut his eyes, trying not to focus on the empty bed in his room, the one that had been empty for years. Thinking of Ron dying too was all too much.

"We have," Fred waved his wand, "Four minutes. Pick three, I'll pick three and then I'll run them down to someone left in this house. The instructions are written on the plans already. They'll just have to transfer them."

"I have them." Ginny replied a moment later, holding up three yellowed and scribbled parchments. Fred took them, comparing them against the ones he'd received, and nodded with relief. She'd picked well.

"Go downstairs. I'll be down in a couple seconds. Save a seat for me?"

"Of course." Ginny said, hugging him quickly, "You might have just saved their lives." She added, and Fred grunted in response. He penned a quick note to his brother and Hermione, and divided the sheets into two piles, three inventions each. Nothing against his brother, but he did give Hermione the more difficult ones, knowing that in a pinch she might respond with them better.

He found Neville eating cereal in the kitchen.

"I don't have much time." Fred said, shoving the papers into his hands, "Go to the main center. Gather these materials, but them in separate boxes. Copy the instructions and add my notes. Send it to Hermione and Ron each. Can you do that?"

"Of course, don't worry at all." Neville said, abandoning his breakfast immediately. He summoned his coat from across the living room, and grabbed the plans, his wallet, and a handful of floo powder, "If you see them, tell them I miss them." Neville added before he threw himself through the chimney.

Fred heard the whirling of the hovercraft. He threw himself out of the house just as it was taking of. Bill was leaning out the hovercraft, arm outstretched hand he heard his mother hollering from inside. He took a giant leap, and for one terrible moment thought he wasn't going to make it, but then Bill's firm palms grasped around his wrists. His father and Bill helped pull him into hovercraft, where he lay panting.

"Do you always have to be so dramatic?" His mother said with a disapproving tone, "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I was doing something to help Ron." Fred felt his cheeks flush, "Sorry mum."

"If you had missed this, and hadn't seen Ron now…" His mother just shook her head. The thought of missing his brother alive and hugging him made his chest clench in the most painful of ways.

"I know." He wiped a tear away from his face, "How do we even know he'll go?" Fred asked, the quiet fear in the back of his head.

Ginny scoffed from at his head, "It's Ron and Hermione. They are the most Gryffindor-ish people we all know, including between ourselves." She pointed out, "They'll come. Hermione is too sensitive not to try and even though Ron doesn't say it, he'd punch the devil in the face to see us all again."

"As it turns out, he might just have to." Arthur sighed.

"But that's good, right?" Bill turned to Fred, "The worst stuff is coming, and that means that it will end soon, so it's not much longer he has to hold on now." There was such hope in his voice, and Fred didn't want to dash that.

"Yes, you're right." He merely said, but in his head he was thinking something totally different. What he didn't want to point out was that the games didn't end just because it had been going 'x' many of days, it ended because there wasn't anyone left to play. The only reason things were getting hard was so a person died…and yes, it was nearing the end, but that didn't bode well for Hermione or Ron in the slightest.

THEGREENGAMES

Mandy found Caligula's body only moments before the hovercrafts picked him up. She had just enough time to stumble near the bank, finding his prone body on the grass and the dried blood, touch his cold fingers and stumble away as the whirl of the copters buzzed overhead.

There was a numbing sensation crawling up her fingers that had touched him. She hadn't truly come to realize it, but she'd sort of hoped they'd both make it to the end. She'd been fraught with worry when she couldn't find him, and had been re-tracing all her steps, going back through every word he ever said to her trying to figure out where he might have gone. She'd lost valuable time she could have been sleeping or hunting, trying to find him. And now that he was dead, she wondered why hadn't she spent that time doing other things? Why was she so intent on finding a man she hardly liked herself?

Because she didn't hate him, and she couldn't accept the fact he might have left her…she had to prove her own worst fears wrong.

She supposed this was good enough proof.

She brought her fingers to her lips, pressing them against her face softly, staring at the grass path flattened where he'd been. There was only a sight discoloration to a couple blades of grass; otherwise no one would ever be able to tell there had been a dead body there.

There was a glimmer of pride in her chest…she thought she'd be the first one to die, if either of them were dying. He had Mother Nature on side, whereas she just had hope.

The invitation came down what could have been hours or merely minutes into her contemplation. His death shocked her, quite frankly. It was hard to come to terms with, which is why she was mad at herself. This was exactly why she'd wanted to go it alone…the backlash of emotions of this death was something she never wanted to face.

The choice to go to the center was simple. Yes, she realized it would be difficult and possibly dangerous, but she didn't have much other things to do. What was she going to do here? Stay and feel sorry for a kid that was long dead? No, surely not.

She stuffed the invitation into her boot and stood up.

"Bye, Cal. I'm sorry about it all." She whispered to where he had once laid. She kissed two fingers and pressed to where his head roughly had been, and then shook herself out.

Death was just a part of the game.

THEGREENGAMES

Hannah had been doing quite a good job of doing nothing for the last couple days. Life was boring, but then again, thank Merlin life was boring. She was alive, and by that logic, there wasn't much she should be complaining about.

The part of the forest she'd been in was suspiciously quiet, and she'd been sleeping with one eye open, expecting a surprise attack that never came. At this point, she wasn't sure if it was because there was something much worse on the horizon or the game makers had deemed her not even worth killing off. They likely thought she'd die on her own soon enough, and she didn't disagree with them. She was beginning to think it was a string of accidents, not miracles, that she was alive.

She wondered how Hermione was doing. Although there had been so many cannons, she couldn't imagine Hermione was one of them. In her mind, Hermione was alive. There was no way she could be dead, otherwise Hannah wasn't even sure if she'd want to continue. Not that she loved Hermione, but Hermione was the sort of person the games couldn't possibly take, it just wouldn't be fair. She figured if Hermione was dead, life was officially rigged and she didn't want to live in that world.

She hadn't heard anything from Cedric, although not that she expected it. It would have been nice for a letter or something, because she felt terribly alone. But what would he say to her, if he sent one down? How would any simple scribbles on a sheet of paper sum up everything she hadn't said to him the last night before she'd left? How could these squiggles reply back feelings she wasn't sure he had for her, but oh, she hoped he did?

Then again, in the middle of fighting for her life was probably not the best time to expect their 'relationship' or maybe lack-there-of to be figured out. And she sort of hated herself, that in the thick of it all, she just thought about a boy? Was that wrong, that she wasn't more concerned about her own life?

She slumped into a sitting position in her sleeping back, yawning languidly. The air was a little cold, but nothing really bothersome. She was just glad she'd kept her jacket, like Hermione had told them, even thought that first day-which seemed eons away-had been blistering hot.

In a way, she wished she were still with Hermione. Although experience told her the worst of things happened to Hermione, like it had in school too, it would still be better than where she was currently. She'd give adventure and danger to the odd sleeping pattern and staring off into the foliage life she was doing right now. In fact-

There was a tingling noise from above. As if someone had answered her prayers, Cedric or otherwise, there was a note or something sent to her, and this meant something exciting. She tore the letter apart with her teeth, using her other hand to unravel the letter.

Her eyes widened with glee, not at all the reaction any sane person might have. But after two, or was it three, days alone, Hannah was not sane. And this…this invitation, it was something better than nothing. It was an adventure.

Hannah had never packed up her camp as quickly as she did now. This thrill for the unknown…she chuckled, she almost felt like a Gryffindor.

THEGREENGAMES

"Are we going?" Colin was the first to speak after Hermione finished reading the invitation out loud. No sooner had she finished that Ron had torn it away from her fingers, reading it over himself, before passing it around to Colin, who now spoke.

"Is that a question, really?" Ron said, looking up. His blue eyes shimmered, "We should…shouldn't we?" Even he seemed unsure though.

"I say we do." Draco said, nodding to himself, "I think the risk is worth it."

"Well, actually, now I think-," Ron began to say, likely to immediately disagree with Draco, but Hermione shushed him.

"Ronald, two seconds ago, you wanted to go."

"A guy is allowed to change his mind, right?" Ron muttered sourly, glaring pointedly at Draco, "We're still not done."

"Whenever you want to go, Weasley." Draco responded with a tinge of malice.

"Stop!" Hermione shoved herself between the two boys, "The last time you fought, Elizabeth died." It was a low blow, and both boys winced hard, but she felt little shame. They needed to be reminded where their stupid male complex put them.

"And speaking of which," She said, spinning on Ron, "I'm still not happy with you!"

"He attacked me." Ron said, sounding truly if he was a lone victim in the whole mess, waving his hands between himself and Draco.

"After you read his private mail and then got upset after you violated his privacy? And then had the audacity to act as though you somehow were my keeper?" She asked, hand fisting, although she had no intention to hit him. She just wanted to keep herself from shaking too badly.

"Hermione…" Ron looked flustered, "I know you, and we've been friends a long time. I'm just looking out for you, don't you see?" He asked, pained, "Malfoy is…you wouldn't have ever gone out with him in school, would you?"

"People change, Ron." Hermione said, although neither denying nor admitting to his question. She realized after a belated second if she was talking about herself or Draco, because she surly wasn't the same person that had entered this arena. She was crazy to think any of them were the same.

"Hardly." Ron hissed at Draco.

"Fine, you can hate him. I can't control your feelings. See what I did there?" She asked, pausing a pregnant moment before continuing, "I think we all agree to get our wands, to get a break, to see our family…" her voice broke a little, "Is worth anything they might throw at us."

"I can hardly remember what my wand feels like anymore." Colin whispered, timid.

"I suppose to sleep on something other than pine fronds would be nice." Ron agreed after a long moment. Hermione subconsciously glanced at Draco, half expecting him to add in something, but not carrying this too far. He did, however, and it was a very venerable admission.

"I don't care about the rest, I do want to see my mother."

"Malfoy has parents. Brilliant. Here I was pretty sure you were just hatched, like a larvae or something and claimed, or some other weird pureblood shit." Ron said nastily, and Hermione restrained herself from really hurting him this time, but Draco wasn't taking his insults lying down.

"If I was a larvae or whatever, but there's only one of me. If so facto, then you must have been from a little of rats or something. You know there's a saying that in animals, the more offspring born, the more likely it is that most won't survive. With singular births, it's because we're more acclimated to survive. Better in general. It's a legit science."

"Both of you!" This time it was Colin who interrupted their pissing contest, "Can it, will you? It's wasting our time."

"Whatever." Ron said, "We might have the same end goals, but no way in hell am I traveling all the way with him. I might actually end up killing him."

"For once we agree on something. Not that he'd kill me, I'd disable him before he could."

"Well, it might be a good idea to split up…" Hermione reluctantly agreed, and both boys gave her quizzical looks, both clearing expecting her to disagree, "We know that it will be dangerous, and the point is to kill off as many of us as possible because they know this chance is worth it. If we stay all together, we run the risk of all being trapped in the same pitfalls. Right now, size is not safe. I don't think having more than a partner would make a difference with what I'm expecting. At least one pair should have a chance to make it safely there." She said.

Draco nodded in agreement but said nothing. Colin slowly looked out into the forest. Ron, however, roughly grabbed Hermione, tugging her to his side.

"Hermione goes with me." Ron said, a dangerous tone. Hermione did not want to go with Ron, for she was still very sore with him and frankly didn't want to spend the whole way fighting. It was exhausting and she needed to be mentally prepared for whatever the game makers threw at her. She didn't hate Ron, because how could she, but she knew that this wouldn't work in her angered state.

"I don't think so." Colin shook his head; "You're both here because you both suffered really bad injuries. Hermione may not seem like it, but she died for more than just a few seconds, Ron." He said. Ron released his grip on her. She realized in the chaos of the day, she'd never fully told him everything. He didn't even know she'd seen Harry yet, and there wasn't ample time to tell him now.

"What? Are you okay?" Ron's face was full of concern, "Merlin, why didn't you say something…"

"I'm alive right now, aren't I?" She asked, but lifted her shirt slightly to show Ron the ugly scar that had nearly killed her.

"She's alive, but not fully healed. If something happened to her in the middle of the forest, you couldn't save her, Ron." Colin said logically, "And vice versa. She's too weak to try to save you herself. I've been with Draco; I've helped him save both of you. I know a medical magic, enough to get by these next hours." He insisted.

Hermione looked at Draco, but he was looking at Colin like he was the proudest parent in the world. She hadn't thought Colin capable of such underhanded persuasion, but he had been spending a large amount of time with a Slytherin. She supposed some things wore off. Colin glanced back at Draco, and upon seeing his grinning face, the boy's whole face lit with such glee that Hermione had to look away from this private moment.

"So if you went with Hermione, which I'd rather prefer, that would leave me with the Ferret. Fuck." Ron surmised, and Draco was clearly trying to hide a smile.

"What will it be, Weasley. I'll let you chose. Do you travel with Colin, or with me?" There was a devious smile on Draco's face, but one that Hermione didn't mind all too much.

"You know the answer." Ron kicked a rock, "Colin, obviously. But if you hurt a single hair on her head, Malfoy, I swear to god-,"

"Really?" Draco sighed, as if bored, "If I weren't under oath to do no harm, which I am by the way, I would have killed Hermione long ago if that was my plan." He said with a casual air.

Ron's jaw twitched and Hermione ran her palm down her face.

"I don't think that comment helped things, Draco." She said. He shrugged.

"Probably not. What's he going to do about it though?" She sent him a deadly look, and he quieted. She wasn't perfectly happy with him either, but in a much more complicated way. The fact that they'd be alone, as Colin set up in an almost too happy way, and thinking they might be faced to discuss things…Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to go there.

Not because her own feelings were muddled, in fact it was becoming clearer with each moment, but because it terrified her a little. Seamus was safe, if anything. Draco and his emotions were anything but, in a non-literal way. He'd never do anything to hurt her, but he was a sort of person she'd never had like her before, a dark and deep pool unlike Seamus whose love for her was like a puddle after a light spring rain.

There was a bell sound from above.

"What now?" Draco moaned, looking to the sky, but it was much bigger than just a letter. Ron, the tallest, jumped up to grab it before anyone else could. He tore through the packaging, a wide smile creeping onto his freckled face.

"Freddy, my boy." He said, fist-pumping the sky.

"It's from Fred?" Hermione was curious, and pulled herself toward Ron.

"Look there' stuff for you too, specifically." He said, handing one of the two packages in there to her, "Lucky you." There was a tinge of jealousy to his voice, although Fred had sent him things too. Of course, he must be wondering why she got anything at all, something Hermione faintly wondered too.

She wasn't going to dissect that question now.

"We'll surely make it now." Ron said, showing his goods to Colin, who jumped a little with happiness.

"Fred states very clearly that he doesn't know what's in store, he just gave us general things that might be helpful." Hermione corrected, and Colin's face fell a little, but Ron's did not.

"C'mon, he hast o know something, even if he didn't realize it. He's around those game makers and the game center all the time, and he's a victor." Ron seemed totally confident in his brother. Hermione wasn't going to pop his bubble, not now. Perhaps, maybe Ron was right.

"Did you two get the same things?" Draco asked, already have seen Ron's box.

"Not sure." Hermione carefully dumped the contents on the ground.

"It's different." Ron noticed, "Why do you-,"

"Not everything has a reason, perhaps it was just by random he separated these items. He couldn't guess we'd be splitting up. He likely was just covering bases." Hermione said, and Ron seemed to be able to accept this answer.

"Right." Ron straightened, "We should leave straight away, Colin. I guess you guys can wait or go a different way, but don't follow me." He said more to Draco than Hermione.

"Wouldn't dream of it. We'll wait here. I should gather some supplies. Colin already has a decent enough med kit in his bag from previous days, and it will fix anything you come across. If it doesn't, I probably couldn't save you anyway." Draco said.

"Noted." Colin saluted him; "See you on the other side?" He asked.

Hermione went up and hugged them both. She turned to Ron, "I'm still mad at you, and I don't know when I wont' be, but I do want to see you at the end there. Don't do anything stupidly gryffindorish." There was a snort from Draco and a mutter of 'rich coming from you', which she ignored, "No heroics, please?"

"I just want to get to my family. I wouldn't risk that." Ron said with earnest, "I love you Hermione." He said, in a platonic sense.

"I love you too Ron." She said, and hugged him, "Good luck."

Draco waited to cough hard until the pair was gone.

"Oh, shush. If I loved him more than like a brother, I would have kissed him." She said sourly.

"So do you really think Fred just randomly split up the things?" Draco asked, examining their pile.

"No. I didn't want to hurt Ron's feelings, but mine are fare more complex formulas than his. It's good we are waiting a bit, I might start on a couple compounds to save time now that won't blow up while we're walking while you collect what you need to collect."

They diverged to their separate tasks, Hermione starting to carefully create some compounds, Draco gathering what he though he would need in the cave. She didn't have a watch, but by the way the moon flung across the sky and turned into a pinky dawn, Hermione figured they'd been there about an hour.

She could theoretically work on these hours longer, perfecting them to the point of almost detonating in their various ways. She was extremely careful with them; not that any one substance on their own was explosive, but most would burn or hurt her is she let it on to her skin.

The only reason she stopped was because Draco seemed to be coming out of the cave with a bag, and she figured she should go get her own. She didn't know what she was expecting, but coming to the mouth of the cave and seeing it completely bare was not it. Draco must have seen the confusion on her face because he turned and sighed.

"Do you really think we'd ever make it back?" He asked lightly. She was almost sad to leave the cave, but he was right. In the back of her mind she knew today was the beginning of the end, and they wouldn't ever be so lucky to see this cavern of protection again. Draco was giving up the perfect hide out to see his parents.

"No." She slumped her shoulders, "You're absolutely right." He handed her her own bag, more filled than usual, and the beaded purse.

"The three things Weasley sent us?" He questioned.

"Nearly ready at hand if we need them. Minor additions." She said, "You know, they might actually save our lives."

"I have no doubt." Draco said, tilting his head.

"I'm just saying, you're often so judgmental of the Weasley family, and you know that Fred's actually-,"

"Quite intelligent, yes. I gathered that from the short meeting he was forced to give the Slytherins back at the training camp. I've seen his works before too, it's not easy at all. He's very skilled."

Hermione couldn't stop her surprise from bubbling up, "Oh."

"I just don't like Ron and sometimes Ginny. I so far have no qualms against one else in his family. I'm not prejudiced without reason." Draco said, and at Hermione's even more shocked face, "I'm not 12 anymore."

She knew pushing the subject that he really shouldn't be prejudiced about Ron or Ginny either was likely asking too much.

She slung her backpack over her shoulder, and took one last glance at a place that had becoming synonymous with comfort, before forging forward. Draco paused at the boarder of the camp, and she head him inhale deeply.

"Together?" She asked, offering a hand. He jumped a little at the motion, hesitated before reaching out and clasping it.

"Of course."

THEGREENGAMES

For the first hour, Colin and Ron didn't talk. Ron mostly was at the head of this choice, determined to get further ahead of ferret and Hermione, get there first, prove him wrong (for whatever Malfoy judged him about). It wasn't until he was sure they'd made good progress that he scrutinized Colin. In fact, he wasn't too happy with his blond companion. At least the color blond of this boy's hair was an acceptable shade.

"I don't get it, Colin." He said, breaking the silence.

"What?" Colin spun, frowning, "Don't get what?"

"Why you did that." Ron hissed, insulted.

Colin paused, very unsure. "Why I…walked forward?"

"No," Ron said, frustrated he didn't understand immediately, "Back at camp. Push them together like that. I doubt you're really concerned about my leg." Ron said, quite sure that Colin was conspiring against him to push Hermione and Draco together.

"I actually am worried about your leg." Colin said, and Ron still waited for him to deny it, "Especially because you've been limping for the past half-hour. If you tripped, you'd tear some stitches and then what?" Colin questioned.

"That's only one thing answered." Ron said, blushing as he attempted to walk without a limp. It didn't work all too well.

Colin stared at Ron, as if deciding to speak or not, but finally gave an uncaring shrug. Apparently whatever he was going to withhold he didn't feel the need to, "I think they work well together, as a team and a couple."

"I didn't actually want honesty." Ron said, a bit disgusted.

"Too bad. You hate Draco for no reason other than you always have. Do you think I trusted him immediately when I first washed up around him? No, but I knew I had to try, otherwise I'd die. He saved your life too, and he's saved Hermione's. I also know he'd never hurt her."

"Seamus wouldn't have ever hurt her either," Ron fired back.

"Yeah, but he's dead, isn't he?"

Ron didn't talk for another long time after that. It was Colin who broke the silence a second time.

"What's with the dragon?" He asked, slightly tugging the stuffed plush from Ron's bag. Ron spun around with a fury Colin had only seen when he was attacking Draco, grabbing the toy from Colin protectively.

"It was Elizabeth's." Ron muttered, stuffing it back into his pack.

"Is that guilt I hear?" Colin asked, because it was obvious when the pair arrived at camp, Ron didn't like her. In his old ways, he wouldn't have ever been so blunt. But he'd been learning from a Slytherin and it had changed him, enough to bring up the fact that Ron didn't want her around before. But now…?

"Maybe." Ron said, drawing a hand over his face, "I just miss Luna." He said, although Colin wasn't fully sure how the two related. Ron didn't seem to be in a sharing mood either.

"I'm sorry, mate." He said, "Luna was a good girl."

"She was the best." Ron said simply, "I just…Elizabeth asked me right before she died to give this to her parents. As I said at camp, I think she knew last night was her last night. I don't know what's the importance of this, per sey, but I sort of do, but it's really a big deal that I do this. She deserves it, and I need to do it for myself. Hopefully I can give it to Mum to give to her parents. I think they'd like it even if it was just a doll, the last thing she touched that they can keep."

Ron's answer was a big jumbled mess, different thoughts colliding and half finished ideas that only he understood in his mind. Colin followed his thinking best he could, and at least got the gist of his insistent attitude. He didn't disagree, someone as kind and pure as Elizabeth deserved her last wishes carried out by whomever she chose.

"Fair enough." Colin said, ending the conversation there, "I think we should stop, let me look at your leg before we continue. Straining yourself won't do anything but hold us back."

THEGREENGAMES

Tracy didn't really think about the perks of making it to the center, she hardly read them as it was. She was looking, but not truly seeing the words on the page such as 'parents' or 'wand', as her mind already had begun to wander to planning for the other big draw there.

In her mind, she was going because logically everyone would be getting this message, and she craved the sensation of killing. She'd feared she would have to seek out the remaining people for days, because there weren't many left by her own calculations and they weren't the stupid ones either. It was as though some holy being above had answered her bloodthirsty plea and sent the perfect trap for her. If she made it to the center first, or at least within good time, she could just wait near the entrance for the people coming and spring attack them.

Not only would this catapult her closer to winning everything, it would satiate the deep hunger that had opened like a chasm within her chest. In the back of her mind, she was a little excited to see Marcus to thank him for his help so far. She wondered if he'd be proud of her, what she was doing, and what sort of person she'd become? Surly he would be, as he was one of the bloodiest known contestants in the games ever. Even though there was only a handful of victors and a slightly bigger handful of players, and everyone eventually everyone did things they never thought they'd do, Marcus held a certain reputation.

To put lightly, until Pansy came around, he was the only one who almost enjoyed what he did here. To put it bluntly, Marcus' ledger was drenched, and not even the most powerful drying spell could evaporate all the blood on it. It gave Pansy a run for her money.

The difference between the two was that Marcus wasn't the smartest person; he was just ambitious and willing to do whatever it took-the epitome of a Slytherin, in Tracey's opinion. Pansy was a little more cunning, a little cleverer and she was ruthless in a totally different and terrifying way.

She had set off as soon as she'd gotten the message, hastily packing her things, and setting off in the direction she thought was the center, although she admitted to herself she had the possibility of being incorrect.

She was begging to fear all together that she was being terribly turned around and would never find the center, as humiliating as it was, when she heard voices. She ducked behind a bolder, peering around, and to her great delight, saw Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes Granger and Draco making their way through the forest.

She knew Pansy likely wanted Hermione for herself, and for some crazy notion didn't want Draco dead (even if it was clear she'd never get him), but Tracy wasn't truly thinking about that right now, except in the fact these kills would make her even-if not elevated-in comparison to Pansy. Plus, she could deal with Pansy's wrath.

Finders, keepers…right?

THEGREENGAMES

After what seemed like forever (in reality, it was likely an hour), Hermione turned to Draco.

"How long?" She questioned. She didn't want to say out loud, although it was true, that she frankly had no idea how to get the center. She'd been turned around so many times in this area she'd lost all sense of direction. Luckily, Draco seemed to have picked a spot and stayed there, so she was confident he knew exactly where they were going.

If Draco had any doubts, he didn't' say them. Instead, per what she was accustomed to, he had his signature smirk on his face.

"However long it takes." He said, and Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Fine, fine. Four, five hours if we just keep walking, no interruptions?"

"But there will be interruptions, our own needs or the game maker's test." Hermione finished his thought, sighing, "I guess I didn't realize it was a full day's trek."

"I didn't want my camp to be anywhere near people. It's not like I planned originally to be the doctor of this, you know? I just planned on waiting out the storm, but fate, or game makers, drove certain people toward me. I'm a little grateful for this; the camp was far too crowded. If we had just gotten rid of one annoying ginger, it would have been a much nicer place."

"We were still crowded with three. It was really a one-maybe two-person cave." Hermione said, scoffing at his jibe.

"Well, I couldn't kick you, my ailing patient, out. And Colin?" Draco just shrugged, unable to find words to his reason, at least none he wanted to admit to the cameras. But Hermione knew, he'd found a friend within him. Maybe something he'd never even had before, a best friend. Hermione couldn't say she talked to Hannah all that much before the games, but she knew that if they both survived, their bond would be stronger than anything.

She was terribly excited to see Hannah. She missed her so much, and Hermione was determined to keep her alive with her, whatever the cost. She wasn't sure she could bear loosing her again.

"What did the Preferred Weasley send, just so I know?" Draco cut into her thoughts, and Hermione looked up.

"What? Oh, yes, good idea. I suppose you should know. They're all color coded, so that all the ingredients and such are together and found easily, if you were to need to assemble one." She said, and Draco nodded, absorbing the information so she could continue, "The green is a knock-out gas. It's in a little ball that emits the gas, and we just can't inhale it if we with to stay awake. Fred included a warning with that one, it sounded severe. It probably is just very strong, and we don't have a way to wake one up. I imagine he'd be smart enough to create something so enervate wouldn't work, because if there were two people, that would counteract the whole point."

"I would expect that." Draco nodded, "Next?"

"The purple one is a bomb. He's given us some extremely sticky paste so that we can either attach it to places or we can just use it like a grenade. It's relatively safe right now, no chance of blowing up on us, until we add a compound that is apparently completely harmless on its own."

"Good, I guess I was a bit concerned you'd just be a pile of Hermione-goo without warning." He said, wincing.

"The last is pink colored. It…stops time in a sense. Moreso, for a couple seconds, it gives the person that drinks it super-speed to the point that the world around them stops. You only get a minute or so of experiencing this phenomenon, but that could be game changer. I remember him working on it back before the games." He face puckered.

"But?"

"Well, he warned me it wasn't quite finished, the kinks weren't all worked out. He sent it anyway because it's so helpful in situations, but anything could happen. It's…unstable at work."

"I guess it would take a last-ditch situation to use that." Draco said, previously excited, but now his shoulder slumped.

"Yes, sucks, right?" Hermione shared a knowing smile, "He'll perfect it. He just needs more time. I hear you're pretty good with potions; who knows, if you make it out alive, maybe you could help him."

"Me and Weasley? Any Weasley? Even Preferred Weasley?" Draco repeated, before shaking his head, "I doubt he'd want me anyway."

"You are calling him 'preferred' and by his surname instead of 'weasel'. I'm sure he knows how much that means." Hermione said almost sarcastically, patting him on the shoulder.

"I would enjoy picking his brain. Just once, if it would ever be able to happen. And besides, with any luck, I'll be back at St. Mungos." He said, although Hermione wasn't sure she believed it herself. He sounded like he thought there was zero luck, but said it anyway, a faraway dream.

"They'll understand. They shouldn't hold this against you. What you are now, what you've had to do these past few weeks, isn't a true version of the Draco they'd employ. The games turns us all into people we'd rather not be."

"Hermione, the people running the board are mostly pure-blood wizard that used be quite like stupid, second-year me that called you that nasty word. They aren't known for being 'understanding' or 'lenient'."

"If you want a job, you certainly shouldn't be saying that out loud!" Hermione chastised him, "I think you should just wait and see. The point that we both walk out of here alive is still a long way away."

"Any thoughts to what you want to do after this is all over?"

Hermione let out a long sigh. "I never really got a chance to think about it. Well, I did, but I think I hoped I'd be able to have an apprentice somewhere, but instead I chose to be here." She waved a hand around, "I almost want to say Ministry work, to help people, but after seeing this, experiencing this?" She shook her head, "I can't say for sure if any job would satisfy my guilt. I think I'm too good at too many things, there's so many things I could do, but I'm beginning to wonder if there's something I want to do."

Draco just nodded, "It's tough. Hogwarts wasn't great at helping kids decide their careers before, well, you know. Now it's even shittier." Hermione gave a derisive snort.

She was about to reply when a knife sailed through the air. Draco swerved, and the knife hit him right where his heart was…if his heart was on the wrong side. If he hadn't swerved, it may have been a direct hit. Draco groaned, crumpling to his knees.

"Fuck, again?" He cried, touching the knife-handle gingerly. Hermione threw off her pack to grab the bandages he'd put in her bag, but realized the knife had to have come from someone. She spun around to go after the person, but a second too late, as a boot hit her squarely in the face. Hermione stumbled back, falling to her butt and grabbing her nose as she saw Tracy emerge from the foliage. Draco gave a sputtering gasp.

"Davis?" He asked, astounded, but more than that, confused.

Hermione knew she'd have to fend Tracy off, because Draco had a knife sticking from his chest and that wasn't going to let him be all to mobile. Already, he seemed to be working on himself quickly, and Hermione was pretty pissed off, not just because the girl had the gall to kick Hermione, but also because she'd tried (and failed, keyword) to kill Draco.

Hermione didn't even have words for this girl, this mousy girl she'd often forgot existed while they were at school, but now seemed hardened and determined. A girl that she'd forgotten was still alive in the games, but now, obviously, it was clear she was indeed alive.

The pair of females circled each other for a second, and Hermione tried to focus on Draco and his progress, the girl in front of her with blazing eyes, and her own health, since she was still recovering from the last Slytherin girl she'd fought.

Tracy lunged out at her, and Hermione could see her falters where it was clear she wasn't as fine-tuned as Pansy had been; leaving her left leg unguarded, miss-stepping into a moss patch that made her foot slide a bit, how her eyes flickered unsurely about.

"If you walk away right now, I won't hurt you. We'll leave." Hermione said, hoping that Tracy was only pursing them because she felt like it's what she should do. She was surprised to see Tracy react negatively against her words.

"No! You think I'm afraid of you? You think I'm a victim of the games? I want this. I want to kill both of you." She insisted.

"Oh…okay, then." Hermione said, frowning as she processed the statement but then realized what she'd said, "Or, I mean. No, I'm not going to let you, obviously."

"The hell, Davis? Where did that come from?" Draco called.

"Don't try to distract me, Malfoy!" She said, never breaking Hermione's glance. If Hermione could just get to her dagger…she could hurt Davis enough so that they could escape. She wasn't planning on killing this girl, no matter how far off the deep end it seems she'd gone. She knew she was too weak to use wandless magic, and she didn't trust that hitting her would be enough. Extracting a knife from one's own body was dangerous as it was, so she wasn't even going to try to rely on Draco right now.

She decided to make a leap for her bag, but underestimated Davis' speed. Tracy kicked the bag away, inches from Hermione's grasping fingertips. Hermione felt a heavy weight descend on her. She was flipped onto her back, and Tracy's fingers were at her neck. Seamus flashed through her mind, although it only took a second to realize Tracy was far too weak to snap her neck. She was strong enough, however, to apply enough pressure to make Hermione gasp for her breath.

She tried pushing Tracy off, but Tracy pressed herself more on Hermione, a glint in her eyes that frankly scared Hermione. It was familiar, and Hermione wondered if perhaps she'd killed before, and this did concern her. She'd gone into this with the assumption that Tracy hadn't gotten the chance to kill someone, and that maybe she could convince her out of it, but now she realized she was wrong.

Tracy had killed before, and Tracy seemed to like it.

"Draco…"Hermione puffed out, still trying to unhinge Tracy's fingers from her neck. Her rapidly fizzling vision did give her an idea, even if it wasn't ideal, "Green…green!" She gasps out, hoping he got the message. She managed to crane her neck slightly to see him-knife still halfway in his body- lunge toward her beaded bag and start to frantically rifle through it.

He'd gotten the message, thank god.

Tracy looked at him, confused, but didn't stop putting pressure on Hermione's neck. Hermione began to feel really dizzy, and she was straining to keep her eyes open and her vision clear. She hoped Draco had found the green vials and carrier. She didn't know how much longer she could fight. She hated this; she thought she'd be stronger, but her injuries were getting the best of her, and she despised feeling so weak.

"Hurry…please…" She managed to get out.

"I'm trying, I promise!" Draco's voice was frantic and Hermione's struggle against Tracy became feebler. She stopped altogether, insistent to save her strength to escape…when…when…what was she waiting for?

A projectile metal sphere hit Tracey squarely on the face. It was enough to loosen Tracy's grip on Hermione, who-although foggy and reeling, found her instincts shoving her as far away from the girl as possible, and was pleased when she managed to hit Tracy near the face in the processes. And even though all she wanted to do was gulp in the most delicious breath of air, she forced her body to wait as she scrambled far enough away, and close to Draco, that when that thing went off she'd be safe.

When she opened her mouth, she couldn't get enough air.

She looked back at Tracy who almost picked the device now at her feet up, but thought better halfway down, and brought her foot back in the intention to kick it back to them. Hermione watched hazily as the device, before it could be kicked, burst with a spurt of air forcefully up into Tracy's face.

Tracey coughed violently, gasping just as painfully as Hermione was, grabbing her throat.

Hermione was confident in Fred's work, and turned to Draco frantically. Draco pulled her closer to him, hands at her hips, his face searching hers with worry.

"Hermione, Merlin…" He whispered.

"You saved me, again, Draco…are you okay?" Two thoughts came tumbling out one after the other, as she grabbed Draco's shoulders, "What do you need me to do?" Draco was distracted though, frowning.

"I promise I did it right…what it said. The directions…" Draco replied instead, looking past her. Hermione turned to see what he was talking about, namely that Tracy wasn't on the ground passed out, but had regained her breath and was coming at them with a fury unmatched.

"I don't know what the hell you thought that would do, but newsflash-," In the middle of talking, her nose began to bleed. She hardly noticed it until it dripped onto her tongue, and she licked away the salty taste and paused, realizing it wasn't just mucus. She wiped her hand across her nose to wipe away the blood that Hermione thought maybe she'd given to her.

She stopped inches away from them all together when they all realized at the same time her nose wasn't just bleeding, it was gushing.

"Wha…" Tracy wiped her other hand across her nose, both fingers dripping and crimson slick, as she pushed the sleeve against her nose, obviously determined to not let a little nosebleed stop her killing rampage.

Draco's hands tightened on her waist almost painfully.

"Tracey…" He whispered, taking one hand away to touch near the tear-ducts of his eyes. Hermione felt a violent shiver run up her body as she saw blood dribbling from where tears would usually be.

Tracy wiped her fingers on her pants, touching her eyes, terror seizing her body as her fingers came back red.

"What? What's going on?"

"Your ears…" Hermione's voice didn't even seem like her own, not really, as she whispered what she saw next, or blood dripping from her ears as well. She looked at Draco, but he was just as frozen in fright as blood came from every orifice of the girl. He seemed even more freaked out than Hermione was, likely because even as a healer, it seemed he had no idea what had happened to cause this.

"What did you do to me? What did you-," Tracy turned, stumbling on the ground, pushing herself onto all fours. She retched on the ground, but only blood came up, mixing with acid. She was shaking all over, and would have been likely crying if blood weren't flooding up her tear-ducts instead. She looked back, her whole face streaked and stained, heaving again.

"I can't stop!" She said, desperate, and started clawing her way toward them, "You got to save me, Draco. Please! Help me!"

Her terrified cries would haunt Hermione forever. The piercing pitch, the fear, the way it broke and wavered…everything about her last sounds were the worst thing Hermione had ever heard, and would trouble her dreams for years after.

Tracy never made it all the way too them. She kept vomiting up blood, more and more coming out and Hermione knew that one couldn't survive with all this blood loss, but didn't dare speak, just watched helplessly as Tracy fell to the ground, coughing a couple more times before the light from her eyes died and she lay in a pool of her own expelled liquids, soaking into the grass.

When the cannon sounded, both Hermione and Draco nearly jumped out of their skin. Hermione realized in their shared horror, they'd almost hugged each other against the other, both their hands gripping the other person so tightly that it left marks. Even after the cannon, they were silent for a long time, and finally when they moved, it was just a long look at each other, a mixture of emotions flitting across each other's faces.

Draco untangled himself first, his eyes turning back to Tracy. He stood, wobbling uneasily, staring at a person who he'd known well for years.

"You know…" His voice quivered in a horribly shattered sort of way, "I always thought we'd burn after we died for what we've been forced to do here, in the arena." Hermione took a step closer, and his head snapped up, and she stopped mid-step, seeing his eyes glassy and empty, "But I was wrong. I was so wrong. We won't go to hell then, because we're already there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confirmed: Colin is the ultimate Dramione fanboy XD. But if we're being real for a second, I totally think it's in his personally to sorta be a shipper. He's like the sort of person that puts normal people on celebrity status, like he did with Harry in the books. It's for sure a part of his personality I wanted to explore here.
> 
> Now I have some notes on characterizations-
> 
> 1) I was hesitant to put the idea of Pike being in love with Pansy here, because I hate to add yet another love story to this, because I feel like its so much more than just romances (obviously). BUT it is important to his character. And I wanted to add this because you're only seeing the scene unfold from what the characters know, and as Corner said, almost making the mark, Pike fancies himself in love with the idea of her. But it's not even that he's in love with her (I'm sure if he got the chance to bang her, he wouldn't say not, probably not) but it's more that his personally attaches to people and worships them, much in the way that the Death Eaters worship Voldemort and would do anything for him. He's a regular junior Death Eater in the making, and Pansy's his 'Lady'. But because they're teenagers, and no one really knows Pike nor would likely equate Pansy (yet) with a maniacal dictator, they interpret his fidelity toward her as affection, as how it often is in some of the cases we see here. But I don't really see Pike capable of loving, he's truly just to fucked up for those sorts of deep and intimate connections.
> 
> 2) I in no way mean to indicate that because Tracy was (underneath) a killer, she was put in Slytherin. She just has qualities that enhance her ability to kill that happen to fall in line with Slytherins. Maybe this wouldn't bother anyone else, but for me, it's a topic close to heart because I am a Slytherin, totally in every sense, but I'm not evil and I detest the implication that all the bad guys to there. As it happens, good guys happen to have values aligning closer to Gryffindor, and bad-guys happen to have aligning values closer to Slytherin. As Tracy said herself, being ambitious enough to live and believing that any means that reach an end are justifiable if you live is a very Slytherin trait, but also one that most people would find selfish...but is quite good within an arena, which is why Slytherins tend to last long compared to say, Hufflepuffs. I tried to really show that evilness and goodness can come from any house- such as by making Corner a clear villain and having Draco be good (and even showing moments of humanity in the rest). I just, I think a lot about sorting and houses and all that. I find it pretty fascinating!
> 
> If you got to the end and read both of those long paragraphs, I commend you, trooper!
> 
> LIVING LIST
> 
> HUFFLEPUFFS: Hannah
> 
> SLYTHERIN: Pansy, Draco, Pike
> 
> GRIFFINDOR: Ron, Collin, Hermione
> 
> RAVENCLAW: Mandy
> 
> In other fanfic news, I've released two new Bellarke stories. One is a one-shot and drabble (less than 500 words) that I wrote for a contest. Didn't win, but still fun. The other, well, if you like Bellarke, ArkAus, and ArrangedMarriageAu's, go check out my newest Bellarke story 'Project Iphigenia'-and maybe leave a comment/kudo? It doesn't have any yet, and few kudos.
> 
> Hope everyone has a good night :) Remember to review!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was working on some of my The 100 fanfiction since I haven't touched that in quite a long time, but after last night's episode I can't even look at anything The 100 without crying so...I guess be glad last night's episode killed me a thousand different ways? It's April 1st, and on tumblr I saw this great thing where writers post fanart and artists post stories. I think I might still participate in it before the night's over, maybe a pic of Fred and George since it is their birthday ;) Or Lincoln, since he deserves it :(

Draco was a mess for hours after.

He didn't say another word for a very long time after muttering his thoughts, leaving Hermione to either fill the gap with useless words or to stay silent. She chose the latter.

He didn't instruct her at all as she pulled the knife from his chest, only winced in pain. He didn't tell her that when she sewed him up, it was the most awful job anyone could have ever done (because truly, it was) or make a comment about the scar it would leave, just reminding him of this day, but just stared into the forest. Even when she finished bandaging him as the hovercrafts came, picking Tracy up and they watched blood still drip from her lips, he was utterly silent, and Hermione would have thought him emotionless.

But when she turned around again, she saw tears running down his cheeks and his shoulders shaking that, if he was allowing himself to be vocal, would have violent sobs, not unlike the ones she'd experienced the night before…although it seemed now like years ago. She didn't even know what to say, for she was still trying to process what had happened herself, running through every moment of that list, but she wasn't schooled enough to know what could have caused such hemorrhaging as it did.

"I fucked up." Draco finally spoke in between hiccups, pressing his palms into his eye sockets, "I fucked up, Hermione. I must have mixed something wrong, done a step out of order. It's my fault, I did this. I killed her."

The reality of his guilt settled upon her like a dead weight.

"No," She said firmly, "I did half of that gas too. It could have been my mistake just as easily." She'd been so sure she'd done everything to perfect, but now she couldn't be sure of anything. Even as she read the list again, after finding it discarded on the ground, she realized she couldn't remember if she'd done number five or if she'd mixed the components together in the way number seven instructed her to. Maybe she'd killed Tracy. Hell…she'd killed Tracy….

"No." Draco let out another little cry; "The mixture was neon orange, just like the instructions said it would be at instruction ten. You didn't do it wrong, I did something wrong, I just don't know what. I fucked up, don't you see that?" He said, "It was me, Hermione. It wasn't you."

Hermione didn't know how to comfort him, because what if he did mix it up? She couldn't ever hold it against him, but she knew nothing she could say would ever heal the guilt he felt.

"I was so afraid I was going to lose you again, I was distracted." Draco said, "This is my punishment, for falling in love with you, even thought I was awful to you when I was younger. For finding a job that I love, but one that if I had any hope of returning to, I couldn't now. For thinking that the person I was before, the kid that was stupid and a bully, could just be forgotten. But I'm paying for everything, for my own faults, for my parent's faults…someone has to, why shouldn't it be me?"

If Hermione had any idea what she was going to say before, now that was gone. She had heard Ron say Draco loved her, and hadn't heard him deny it, but to hear the words physically leave his lips? She didn't know how to reply to that. But the rest of his thoughts?

"No, Draco…" Hermione sat next to him, "You're not…that person…you were just a child. You weren't smart enough to know, and the world doesn't just punish that sort of behavior. Everyone's a bit of a jerk at that age." She said softly.

"Hermione, you don't get it. I'm a Malfoy. We're privileged, but we're also cursed. We have so many curses on us that why not add another, you know? Why not specify it to me? You've seen our family tree, why do you think me, and my father, and my grandfather are only children? Why is it only males?" He asked angrily, and Hermione frowned. She supposed she'd never fully thought about it.

"You're not saying-,"

"We're cursed." Draco said flatly, "We have been for centuries. Usually it's not specifically a person, but clearly the world hates me because I dared to love you, a muglge-born, that's just not done in our world, but I don't care…and I'm still paying everyday for it, because I couldn't stop if I wanted to." He whispered, "My name wasn't in the bowl, Hermione."

Hermione struggled to understand. "The bowl? You mean on the reaping? Impossible, everyone's name goes in and you were picked so-,"

"No." Draco shook his head frantically, "My dad wrote those names. He works for You-know-who so that I wouldn't have to go through this. My name wasn't on the slips he wrote, and no one else knew about their agreement, so no one would have a reason to put my name in but it was still picked."

He looked at Hermione, tears gone, but eyes still swimming with sorrow, "I'm cursed." He said a little weaker, "And the worst of it is that I fell in love with someone who doesn't love me back."

Hermione was silent, processing, unsure of anything she could say to change his mind that wouldn't be a lie, or, at least, only a half-truth. But Draco didn't dwell on that, but frowned deeply, his face shifting into 'doctor-mode' as his gaze roamed her body.

"Blimey," He muttered, raising his fingers to ghost across where Tracy's fingers had pushed the air from her throat, "That will bruise. It will be nasty."

In a way, she was surprised after his confession and her lack of response he had the guts to touch her in almost a soft and intimate way. He didn't even hesitate, didn't even pause as he gingerly examined her neck, as a doctor should, but she knew there was more to it than that. But then perhaps his confidence came from the fact she didn't brush his touch away either.

The boy she'd known her first year of school was a coward, yet something near third year had changed every bit of him ensuring that when he left school he wasn't one anymore. The boy she knew first year wouldn't have had the guts to touch her after admitting something so deep, much less find the courage to profess it at all. Yes, Draco was a very different man than the child she'd hated.

And in the end, it was he who pulled back and Hermione felt drawn, compelled to make them stay in this little moment that to him might be nothing, but to her almost felt like everything.

"We should continue. That….occurrence set us back longer than I would have liked." Draco coughed.

"Did you know her well?" Hermione asked, trying to decide if he looked so haunted because they'd been close or because they hadn't, despite being in the same house.

"Enough." Draco replied with a firm tone, "I knew her name, her birthday, her preferred color gleaned from what she wore on weekends, that she had an owl named Mouse, and that her parents moved to Italy after her second year." Draco rattled off, which by all means meant he knew something, but then he paused, "But no, I can't say I truly knew Tracy Davis. She didn't get along with the girls in her grade, and by association, that meant she didn't hang around me."

He seemed angry, almost.

"Whom did she hang out with, then?"

"No one. She was a loner. It's common in Slytherin, applauded even. Friendship, by most accounts, is an oversight of logic and mostly not worth the effort." He said, but he didn't sound all too mechanical, he sounded like he mostly believed it. Hermione opened her mouth to object, but he chuckled, "Even you, who would have most certainly been a loner in any other house, had friends-idiots most of them, as it happens. Gryffindor travel in packs, 'leave no one behind', it's a downfall."

"But you and Blaise?" Hermione fired back, "You were friends with him."

"Which was a mistake, obviously." Draco snapped back, becoming cross with her, "The problem with us, with Slytherins, is that if you are a friend in the beginning, it's hard to shake friends in the end. It is human nature to seek companionship, but it is not often in your best interest, but my flaw is loyalty. It's the idea that if I chose you once, despite everything that would go wrong by nature of probability, then your worth something, right? I kept waiting, hoping until the end that perhaps I would see in him what I saw as a child, what made me rethink my logic. I didn't want to be wrong. I was." He still seemed pained, although Hermione had a feeling most of it fell upon his shoulders.

"Then…" She licked her lips, "Love must be considered equally as frivolous in your eyes. You would have to be a fool by your logic to enter into something so ridiculous." There was a heavy tinge of sarcasm, a hurt to her tone. Draco only gave her a mild smile.

"Why do you think most Slytherins enter into betrothals, despite tradition? Why do you think it is tradition? Because yes, you are right. Love robs you of all your self-preservation and sense of unclouded thinking. Most Slytherins couldn't let this befall them, so a political option to continue their line was the best solution. But I do not deny it, I am a fool in love." He shrugged, "I suppose there came a certain point when even I realized that despite all my calculations, all my logic, you can't override nature and my nature of myself," He waved between them, "calls your nature with a force I couldn't override if I wanted to. And when I let myself go truly to that nature, I found myself falling in love with everything about you in a way that pure instinct couldn't compel."

Hermione snorted, "Is that a romantic way of saying you want to get into my pants? That's charming." She said.

"On the surface, perhaps." His grin was wolfish and he was unflinchingly candid, which she did appreciate, "But it is more than that. It is on a level beneath my control, beneath my most human urges. Once I would say to call it my soul would be impossible, but now?" His fingers ghosted over where his scar was, "I think that's the most appropriate term."

"If that's true, shouldn't my soul be in rhythm with yours?" It was a nice way of asking why she wasn't in love wit him the same way.

"Because you are a Gryffindor." He scoffed, "You have been raised to think by emotion, although you do best by thinking by logic. Your two sides have been in contrast since you could control magic. But it's for the best. Had we met in different circumstances, you'd be driven by logic to the point that I was at, the resistance of the soul. But there's hope, I suppose, because the nurturing of feeding your emotions has been with you for seven years."

"So, in other words, my soul is in rhythm, I just haven't accepted it. It sounds awfully coincidental and convenient for you."

"Do you think you'd be able to touch my soul if it wasn't beating the same as mine?" He questioned back, and this did cause her to pause.

"Come on," He said, after a long moment of her contemplation, looking a little smug, "I think we should head this way."

THEGREENGAMES

Hannah, by a brand of fate and luck that no one could have predicted, makes it back to the starting position first. It's just past noon when she staggers through the protective barrier, sides heaving and blood dripping from her forehead. She wipes it away on her sleeve, relief washing through her whole body as she sees a structure that certainly wasn't there however many days ago that they started this damn trial, a big metal building that looks sort of uninviting but altogether it's something stable and safe and unfamiliar in the best of ways.

There's a wide glass part of it and she can see parents and siblings and other people with their faces pressed against the glass eagerly, and there's a delayed moment before they're all clapping and cheering. She gets the moment of silence before it, even she didn't think she'd be the first one through, but as she passed the barrier, she could just feel that this was true.

It had to do with the fact she was pretty close to the camp to begin with, much closer than comfort than she would have liked in any other setting, and those awful game-makers had less land between her and her goal to throw her off.

Not that they didn't manage to as it was. She'd come across a lake she'd been positive wasn't there before, and had no choice but to swim through it. There had been merpeople waiting for her, and they weren't the beautiful types she'd read about as a child. These were mean with gnashing teeth and claws that dug into her skin, drawing her down under the water.

Even she wasn't positive how she survived. She knew the bubble-head charm quite well, from years of playing by the sea-shore with her family, but the water here was almost too dense to see through, impenetrable, the merpeople invisible until their teeth were up in your face.

She winced as her ankle rolled and gingerly touched the wound there that was obviously tooth marks from jaws that had locked onto her, trying to drown her. It had almost worked too; she could feel her bubble pop and her breath leave her, but just as quickly as they'd all come swarming at her, gnawing at her and breaking her skin, they'd all vanished and she had floated in the depths of the muddy pool, waiting for death, wondering where they'd gone and when they'd be back.

But they never came back.

For some reason, they'd stopped attacking her.

Hannah couldn't wrap her mind around it; true, she'd heard that fresh-water merpeople, as she had encountered here, were generally less violent than the salt-water, but couldn't the game-makers make them as vicious as they pleased? Or was it that since they were sentient, they recognized the horror of the games and only played as much as they could as a part of it? Was it some other reason entirely?

She wondered if they'd let her go simply so she'd over-think it and go mad. If they were doing it to be nice, she would have appreciated it if they'd left a fewer marks. She'd counted, and hadn't even had proper time to look everywhere, no less than fifteen bite marks that burned like someone had poured lemon juice upon them. She hoped that out of everything in this bunker, they might have some medicine.

She pulled herself up to the door, hardly paying attention to the people still pressed up against the glass. She was exhausted. Even if the merpeople had let her live, it had taken all her strength to pull herself out of that water, because obviously, they weren't going to help her there. She could barely swim now, and that was an ordeal in itself. She hadn't exerted herself with so much energy in quite awhile, and all she wanted to do was go inside and find something that wasn't grass and mud and sleep on it.

Professor Lupin was waiting for her at the entrance.

"Congratulations are in order, Miss Abbott." He said, helping her up the steps, "Some of those bites look nasty. You should have those looked at." He said, and Hannah nodded drearily.

"Okay." She agreed, stifling a yawn.

The inside of the box was just as metal coated as the outside, with a slightly modernistic feel. The ceilings were high and had glass skylights above them, and they were at a crossroads of three different directions. One led to the left, and was filled with doors lining the sides. One followed to an open area with a cot or two, where Lupin led her. The third she wasn't sure where it lead to, but she figured she'd have time to find out, if she was able to.

Lupin sat her on a cot, and a medi-witch rushed over and began rubbing antiseptic swabs on her first wounds. She winced at the sharp stab of pain. She was sort of glad neither said anything about her left side, which was obviously in far worse shape than any other part, but at this point, unsalvageable. Frankly, she didn't want their pity and her hardened emotions surprised her. As a Hufflepuff, pity came across to them pretty frequently, but usually she wasn't perturbed by it. They were just trying to be nice, after all. But after going through the games, the idea of someone pitying her was awful. It left a sour taste in her mouth just thinking about it.

It took nearly half an hour for the woman to patch up all her wounds (twenty-seven in all), and three of them needed stitches. After the first one was closed up, she hardly noticed her working. In a way, with a jolt, she realized she missed Draco's hand in medicine. It came back to pity; he couldn't judge her and what she missed now for he too was missing just as much. He also understood their trials, so him healing her had been…unique.

Try as this witch might try, Hannah saw her hooded eyes, swimming with a certain tinge of sorrow, when she looked at Hannah. But it wasn't sorrow that she wanted to see, but sorrow when she looked at Hannah she unconsciously saw a chess piece to Voldemort. They had ceased to be humans the moment they were broadcasted on TV; they were untouchable, people far away and doing things no one could imagine having to do, almost fake and no longer human.

She recalled Cedric once told her that's how he felt, but she didn't understand it then.

She did now.

Cedric.

She wondered if he'd be here, for her? Was he even able to? Or was it just her family? She missed him in a way she didn't think she could miss someone that she couldn't even put a label on their relationship, yet when she was in her quiet moments, her thoughts went to him. A lot of it was recalling watching him go through the exact same thing, and thinking it all looked rather effortless then, and how brave he seemed (Oh, she'd had a crush on him since first year), but how she realized how terrified he actually must have been. The fact that he- A Hufflepuff-came out victorious had shocked her then, because obviously Hufflepuffs were the least violent.

But here she was too, obviously close to the end, and she truly felt, as she'd go to almost any lengths to win at this point. Perhaps everyone could win, they just needed to be pushed and prodded in the right way.

"Alright, you're all done." The woman announced, jolting her from her thoughts, "None of the wounds should be infected, but if they were, you'd know before going back out, so come back here at once, okay?" She said, helping Hannah down from the bed. All the little motions, the helping and such, bothered her. Despite what she now was missing, Hannah could manage herself just fine.

But she just smiled at the woman, trying to summon back her pre-Games attitude.

"Thank you. Where do I go now?" She asked, starting to pad toward the door.

"The first door, right across the entrance you came in." The woman smiled, "I think there's some people there that would very much like to see you."

Even if it wasn't Cedirc, the realization that her family-her mom, her dad, and her brothers, were here made her heart beat fast. She limped a little quicker.

She threw open the door, and saw little cubes. The one right in front of her had a light flickering above it, and since she was the only on there, she gleaned it was for her.

She opened the door; unsure of whom she'd come across. The first thing she saw was her father, and her heart soared.

"Mom, dad!" She said, throwing herself across the room, but stopping short. There was a wall of glass between them. Her parents were up against it, and she almost felt a tear. Until now, she hadn't realized how badly she wanted to hug them, to feel their embrace once again…but she couldn't. They weren't letting her.

"My baby…" Her mother sobbed, pressing her hand hard against her lips from sobbing openly.

She paused, a half-foot away from the glass. She realized how ghastly she must look, how underfed and sick and bloody she must have been right then. She saw two heads peaking around her parents, and in that moment, she didn't want her brothers to be here at all. She didn't want them to see her like this.

"Banana," Liam said, grinning ear to ear, "You're alive!"

"And you look totally wicked." Henry added, his identical grin just as bright, but then his face fell as he searched her, "But what happened to your-,"

"Henry." Her father snapped, and she searched his face, realizing they were limiting what her brothers saw of her. On one hand, she was grateful- no child should have to watch what their older sister went through, like this. On the other hand…they would be starting their first year of Hogwarts next year. The heavy weight that they might be picked settled upon her like an anvil, and she had the thought that maybe they should watch because they should know.

The boys didn't bring up the question again, and no one said anything else about it.

"You made it here first." Despite her mother's tears, there was so much pride behind her eyes, "My little Hannah, the first one to see us."

"I had to see you guys. I missed you so much." Hannah said honestly, "And, the idea of sleeping in a bed…I will never take my tiny twin for granted again." Hannah said.

"You know, you used to love camping as a child. I wonder what's different." Her father said, and it took her a full moment to register it as a joke. She half expected her mom to yell at him, and was fully surprised he could be so blasé about it all, but at the same time, she felt a chuckle escape her lips. What else could you do but laugh about it, since the other option was to cry about it?

"Well, it's all fun and games until you run out of pie mix to eat." She joked back, and Liam gasped.

"When you get out, we'll go camping again and we'll bring loads of pie mix!" He sounded aghast, "Why haven't we sent you more, mum, dad?"

"You know what?" Hannah kept a wince away, "I think I might be all camped-out after this experience. Might want to wait a couple years, or you know, never again."

She met her parent's eyes. If she made it out. If.

They talked about everything and nothing for another good two hours. She used to get annoyed as a teenage about their prodding, her parents and kid siblings wanting to spend time with her, but now she hoped they would never leave. It wasn't she yawned her mother stood.

"We should go. Not only do you look like you're going to fall asleep on that chair, but you're boyfriend should get a chance to see you."

"Yes, you should have told us about him! He's quite the gentleman." Her father agreed. Hannah's forehead crunched.

"Boyfriend?"

"Cedirc?" Her mother prompted, "Oh, he came over after the incident. He's been so wonderful to have around, you know? He understands what it's like to be in there, so he's very sympathetic and helps us keep our nerves down. He's a good one, Hannah."

"I knew his father back at Hogwarts; Amos was always a good man. It was only natural he'd have a son equally as polite. I'm sure he's pacing a hole in the ground waiting for you."

Hannah was still trying to process. Cedric had told them…they were dating?

She kissed them through the glass, eyes watching the door on their side very cautiously.

He entered through, a mix of emotions splayed across his face.

"So we're dating now, huh?" she asked pointedly.

"I mean, we never put a label on it." He sucked in, frowning, "Was I out of line to say that, to tell them that?"

Hannah thought about it. On one hand, she did want to be his girlfriend. They liked each other, found each other attractive, spent time together, and he clearly had shown he liked her in more ways than just one. But on the other hand, the moment they'd admitted they liked each other had been through sex, and her mother always said that was a ruddy way to start a relationship.

But on the other hand, she found she didn't care.

"Of course not. We would have gotten there, eventually. It will be nice to know that I have a boyfriend in my last few days here." She smiled, the word filling her with a warm sort of glee.

"You're doing so well, Hannah. Just a little more fight, please. You're the last Hufflepuff left."

In some ways, it surprised her to hear this, in others, it didn't. She had sort of known, deep down, that there wasn't much of her kind left, if any. Yet hearing it…she understood the deeper meaning of her mother's prideful eyes now.

"I intend to win, don't worry." She said firmly, "I'm not dying without a fight."

"Good." Cedric relaxed, "I…it would be terrible to lose you now, huh?" He asked.

"Whose still left?" Hannah asked, "Since you all seem to think it's nearing the end?"

"Erm, Hermione, Ron, Colin, Tracey-no wait, Tracey just died like four hours ago, on the way here- so not Tracey, but Pansy, Pike, Mandy, and Malfoy." He rattled off. He chuckled, "Guess I can't hate Malfoy now, though? Should probably send him a nice fruit-basket or something, instead of just glaring at him all the time."

"It would be in poor taste to glare at him, he did saved my life." Hannah agreed.

"Damn."

"I agree." She gave a small grin, and she was glad to hear that Hermione was indeed still alive. She figured the cannon for Tracey had gone off while she was underwater.

"Cedric, what do you know about Merpeople?" She asked.

"Not a ton, why?"

She regaled him with her tale of getting here, every detail she could remember about the attack and retreat, and he listened intensely. When she finished, he gave a curious hum.

"Well, you know they're obviously intelligent creatures. They were offered the same status as Vampires and such, but denied it. They didn't want to be regulated, so because of this we think of them as animals, whereas they're sorta like you and me…but half-fish." He rubbed his chin, "It's been said that they are good judges of character. Sirens have been known to let men of good morals go. Perhaps they realized that you weren't an enemy?" He said.

"I had that thought too." Hannah admitted, "Or maybe it's something else entirely."

"I guess I might as well send them a fruit basket too. Or would it be a fish basket? Or that considered cannibalism?"

"I'm not sure, Cedirc." She grinned, giggling, "Maybe stick with seaweed or something. Sushi might be offensive."

"Noted." His eyes traveled up her body, "You're banged up."

"Not in the good way." She winked and his whole body flushed. It was unlike most Hufflepuffs to be so forward, but Hannah was done being 'modest'. Besides, his blush was practically the cutest thing she'd ever seen. He seemed to recover quickly. For his initial surprise, he was a twenty-something year old male, and he'd been more than willing and happy when she'd come to his apartment before the games.

"Well, I would fix that, but you know." He motioned to the glass between them.

"After I win." She said, nodding, "After I win, me and you are going some place nice and warm and non-threatening but we'll never leave the bedroom because we'll be too busy." She felt so dirty, saying such things out loud, and her prim-and-proper self that she used to be tried to censor her.

"Alright." Cedric blushed once again, but it had a very different feel to it, more excitement, "Would it be crazy if I bought tickets now?"

"I expect them when I get out of the games waiting for me." She instructed playfully.

"You know," Cedric said, glancing at her as if seeing her truly for the first time, "I was never as confident as you were. I couldn't have told anyone with that much certainty I'd make it out. I was never sure. It makes you beautiful Hannah, more beautiful than I thought was possible."

Hannah felt her whole body melt at his words, and she almost let out a giddy-girlish laugh. She bit her lip, shrugging, "There are just so many things worth living for. They say if you keep saying something, eventually it will come true. I've never been superstitious, but hey, there's a first time for everything."

"Or a second-a Hufflepuff winning again."

"Yes, that too."

THEGREENGAMES

"He's not back yet."

Pansy spins around, glowering. "I'm quite aware."

By this point, hours after their fight, she was no longer under the false pretense that he was just wandering somewhere near camp, considering possibly killing Pansy in frustration, but would ultimately come bounding back to her. No, at this point she was confident he had gone off on his pipe-dream, and oh, six or seven hours past she had no idea how far he could have gotten.

"I thought you said he would." Blaise was taunting in his tone. She chose to ignore him, for he wasn't worth replying too.

"One of you should go retrieve him." Pansy said, glancing between the now four ghosts that sat before her. Tracy had appeared an hour after the cannon, and sheepishly Pansy had forgotten she was in the games at all. The force of summoning yet another ghost to the circle had caused cramps all along her lining of her stomach, and her knees to shake. She was fairly sure calling upon Blaise, Michael, and Daphne had been intentional, but wasn't sure Tracy's had been.

"We can't." Corner sighed, "We're bound here." He pointed, "To you."

It had been a long shot. She had that sinking suspicion, and she'd wanted to test it. She wondered if the cameras were picking them up at all, or if everyone thought Pansy had gone batty, speaking to thin air and all.

"No matter." Pansy shrugged it off casually, "I have other means of retrieving him."

"I thought you said you were going to stay here?" Daphne tilted her head.

"I am." Pansy gave a wicked grin, and sat herself down cross-legged in the very center of the clearing. She knotted her fingers in the long grass, focusing on the connection between her and the earth. She began to whisper words in a tongue that was now dead, and as other wizards would say, for good reason, but one that had enchanted Pansy from the first time reading it all the same.

She could feel the vibrations of him in black and white inside her head, his crunching footsteps miles and miles away from her. When she was close enough, she tugged his mind to hers.

Come back, Pike. Time to leave this frivolous journey.

She could feel her consciousness merging into his, her will being forcibly projected on his body. She'd practiced this with lesser-intelligent beings before, like the animals of the area, all with great success. They had become her puppets to do literally anything…including hopping themselves into a burning fire if she wanted it. It was like the Imperious Curse, but that one only worked if the person you were cursing you could see. This one, if you knew his or her magic signature well enough, could reach almost anyone.

She'd tried to use it on Draco more than once, but he had been protected by a heavy shield of magic she could not break at any moment she tried.

She could feel his will bending towards her, his footsteps changing abruptly and turning back towards her. She gave a grin; yes, this was working. Then…there was a resistance, Pike tugging forcibly on his mind shackles, as he pulled himself the other way.

No. Back.

She demanded in singular syllables, the force of fighting against an unwilling mind using too much power to be more eloquent. The force did seem to sway him for a moment, but once again she was pushed back from Pike's consciousness. She felt her unseen hand reach out to grab him, but she was smacked out of his mind so violently she found herself on her back, staring up at the sky.

Her lips tasted like copper. She sat up; touching her nose and feeling sticky blood run from it. How irritating; she'd often had minor inconveniences as a result from her magic use, but this was the first time she'd been injured per say by it.

But the thought that she'd failed reached her a moment after, and her bloody nose was forgotten. She let out a scream, slamming her fists into the ground. All around them in a circle, the grass died instantly, wilting into a brown ring. The trees shook with power. She didn't know how he was able to prevent her hold; it was unimaginable. Pike wasn't an accomplished wizard by any means, so it should have been easy enough to persuade him. Perhaps it was the distance. True, she'd only ever tried with animals within her circle.

Yes, this was likely it; she consoled herself with this idea. If he were closer, resisting her would have been unimaginable.

She stood up in a huff, brushing away the foliage from her pants, storming off into the forest. If she had to bring him back by force, maybe she wound. She wasn't planning on running all the way after him, but she had a lingering thought that maybe if she got closer, maybe she'd be able to control him that way.

Something shifted out of the corner of her eye. The sun suddenly disappeared from her sight, as something shielded out her view to the sky. She spun around to see a great wall of thick vines had come up around her before she could even react. She spun in a circle, seeing herself enclosed in at least ten-feet high walls of jungle with a singular path.

She tried to burn through it with a ball of fire, but the leaves just closed the space she'd singed away like a single-minded creature. She touched the wall, and leaves grabbed out at her, wrapping around her wrist like a vice.

At first, panic gripped her when she realized she couldn't shake the leaves. Then, fascination took hold next as she watched the vines lace up her arms. She could feel the dark magic that compelled them, far stronger than her own, giving these usually sentient but unmoving plants a mind of their own.

She tilted her head as the moss closed around her arm like armor. Perhaps she could work with this.

THEGREENGAMES

Roger Davies worked diligently at his station, head bowed over the monitors, fingers flying across the screens, occasionally tapping something with his wand and a muttered spell. Like most everyone else in the Game Maker's room, he was engrossed with his work. This was not the sort of job one could goof off around; it took constant attention and a whole hoard of people to keep theses games afloat and the public satiated.

Suddenly, the room dropped down to a chilling temperature and unrelated to the first change, Roger felt all the hair on the back of his neck stand up and the most uncomfortable shiver run up his body. Without ever saying a word, the presence of their Lord was hard to ignore. One by one, people paused at their workstations- the only person that could cause such distraction as such- and turned their heads to where Voldemort stood, his visit unannounced.

His gaze surveyed the room. Everyone's eyes dropped to the ground. There were no lack of sadistic screw-ups here, because that's what people loved about the games was the really nasty surprises, but Voldemort made the toughest guys in the room quiver and cower like fluffy kittens. He descended down the steps to the main area, gracefully sitting in a chair, and propped one leg up on to the other, joining all his fingertips at the points.

"By all means," He said, raising an eyebrow, "Continue on."

As if by magic, nearly forty heads snapped back to screens, determined not to disappoint him. Davies tried to get back into the groove he'd felt previously, but found it impossible, especially since Voldemort causally peered over his shoulder after about ten minutes. He didn't leave.

Davies gave a frantic glance over his shoulder, and met with the eyes of the most powerful man in the world. He looked away, face sallow. Even in his younger glamour charm, the appearance of himself before the dark magic ate him away- a young adult in his prime- his glance, that sole boring sort of look was the most terrifying thing Davies had ever seen.

Voldemort claimed the change in his appearance was to please the public. Everyone was too scared to rise against him, so he could have been bald and noseless and no one would have insulted him. Yet this was almost worse, because on the outside it was so unassuming. Who would be afraid of a 22-year-old kid? But if you got close enough to look into his sanguine eyes, and didn't die on the spot, you'd see that he was ruthless and nowhere near being childlike.

"Parkinson." Voldemort commented on Davies work. He was monitoring Pansy, mostly not interfering but sending worthy clips to the broadcast manage to piece together for viewing. If need be, he could send distractions her way, but that required the say-so of someone above his paygrade. But he didn't mind, especially not when he was assigned to Pansy's viewing booth. He enjoyed her darkness.

But when Voldemort said her name, he was pretty sure it wasn't said kindly. He seemed…concerned almost, although not for her well-being, more in an unsettled way. Or at least, that's how Davies decided he seemed, it was hard to tell.

They watched her screen together, wordless, for almost twenty minutes. Voldemort was deeply interested, leaning his palms forward on the cool metal to watch her every movement. Davies felt a spark of excitement and possibly lust when she managed to decimate an entire ring of nature around her in frustration.

"Dark magic." Voldemort murmured, tilting his head to the side, "A brand difficult to do properly, yet…"

"Yes. She's become quite proficient." Davies quickly added, "She's a natural. Much like yourself, I would assume?"

Voldemort almost seemed surprised by the question, and at once Davies was sure it was the wrong thing to ask and he'd be killed where he sat, but instead Voldemort chuckled. It was downright scary.

"I suppose." He said, almost like what Davies had said was comical, "Even still…" He trailed off, deep in thought.

"A lot of people think she'll win."

"Yes, I've seen." His response was curt.

Voldemort straightened, jutting his shoulders back, but still staring at the screen. "What do you have planned for this little trial of yours, Davies?" He asked.

"What do we have?" Davies repeated, "Oh!" He lunged across the table, grabbing a parchment, "Er, here sir. Here's the list of things we plan on starting. We've already employed the lake, you see." He said, nodding to where Pike was approaching a lake on someone else's computer just a couple feet ahead of him.

Voldemort scanned the list, nodding at it appraisingly. "Put this one in Pansy's path." He instructed, tapping one with his wand so it burned red colored ink.

"Are you sure?"

"Has she made any indication she will go to the center?" Voldemort asked.

"No, she quite explicitly stated she would not." Davies said, recalling her speech the night previous, or early morning, depending on how one looked at it.

"Just because she refuse to play my game doesn't make her exempt from it. That should be a worse crime altogether, refusing my goodwill, wouldn't you say?" He asked, but Davies still hesitated and did not answer. Voldemort's eyes turned hard "Do it."

Davies frowned, spinning back around to pull up the schematics for the event. He wasn't sure if Voldemort was doing this because he liked Pansy and wanted the public to see her overcome yet another thing, or because he disliked her. Davies didn't dare ask.

Instead, he gave an almost awkward cough, and turned on his mic made to make announcements to the rest of the game makers to make them aware of structural changes or things being released. He felt Voldemort's gaze upon his back.

"Maze going up in sectors eight." He tapped a button, and watched on the big screen as it zoomed on to the area Pansy occupied as a great leafy maze rose from the ground, and all the awful things they'd charmed to go along with it.

He turned around to see if Voldemort would say anything else, but saw he had already silently moved on.

THEGREENGAMES

Pike felt the invasion in his mind, the uncomfortable cold and invisible fingers of Pansy digging around on his mind, attempting to latch onto something to draw him back. He'd felt her doing this before, casually, in less obvious ways. She'd practice on him while they were doing nothing, while they were lounging around the camp. He knew the feeling of her dipping her fingers into the pool that was his mind well, but never had there been the anger and the violence of these fingers tugging him a different direction than he'd intended, his own feet betraying him with a couple well placed taps.

But he couldn't let her continue on this time. He couldn't just pretend like he didn't know what she was doing, couldn't let this experimentation of her power reach him any further, and he grasped at his mind, pushing back at her in a way he didn't know he had the ability to.

He wasn't the smartest person at Hogwarts; far from it. He was dipping far below the average, and had mostly skirted through Durmstrang's classes back before the merger. At Hogwarts, he tried even less. So he'd thought it to be the smartest of choices to pair with Pansy, heel at her words and do her bidding. He'd been downright pleased with himself for making such a logical partnership, because Pansy was intelligent and also not a person you wanted to make an enemy. He'd never questioned it, even looking at her different than he'd viewed her at Hogwarts, which was not much at all. He'd follow her off a side of a cliff if she had wanted him to, but now? Now, he wasn't all too sure he wanted to continue on with her another three steps, and her anger at his leaving proved a nagging fear in the back of his mind; he was useful to her right now, but the moment that ended, he was all too easily disposable.

He dropped to the ground, pressing the palms of his hands squarely against his temples, pressing them together in a failed attempt to sooth the raging headache he was creating in his mind by fighting against Pansy. "Get out of my head!" He growled, trying to detach their connection.

He was going to make it to the center. He had reasons he needed to make it there, especially now that the reality of the situation was becoming evident. As a Slytherin, the easy answer would be to kill Pansy before she could kill him. Unfortunately, he knew this task to be a suicide mission. The best chance he had was evasion with the muttered prayer someone else would off her, or that he could rally his thoughts and think of a way to prove his worth to her, to let him be spared at the end of this all.

A white light exploded behind his eyes as Pansy send flopping on the ground in pain, a gasp escaping his lips as he heard her command clear as day in his mind- Come back Pike, time to leave his frivolous journey.

Anger raged inside of him and he shut his eyes, trying to imagine the pathways Pansy had once described to him that existed in their minds, the pathways she was currently using to bend him like so. His body moved without his permission, clawing back the way he came, and for a second he almost let go.

Almost.

With a forceful shove, he tried to push her out of his mind. Although it didn't work, he could feel the reins loosen on him, if only for a second, but enough so that he could plant himself firmly in the ground before his whole body slugged forward at her insistence again.

No, back, she commanded harshly, and despite the whimper of pain that came with her sharp order, he let out a smile. She wasn't able to make him move this time, although the need to get back to her evaded his mind for the quickest of seconds. Sickened at her efforts and the way her fingers were turning his mind to mush, he retaliated with the mental force of anything he had left. He felt her being shoved from his mind, quietness and an emptiness rushing in the moment it left.

His vision was blotchy, as he stared at the ground. He spat up some bile in the back of his throat, body drained of energy from his stand off. He lay there for what seemed like hours, only shivering and attempting to regain his strength. There was a salient reason why this sort of mind invasion wasn't used commonly; even in the most practiced of hands, much could go wrong, making the person used go mad or worse. His headache only worsened from there.

He felt a whole slew of emotions; rage, foremost, as he often did. There was also betrayal, for he always thought that Pansy thought of him as almost an equal, someone that she wouldn't use that on. She could turn Granger's mind to mush for all he cared, but he never expected her to so violently use her new skills on him.

It made him rethink a lot.

Finally, he pushed himself up, and stumbled from where he'd been, coming to a lake. Gratefully, he collapsed near the bank, splashing water onto his face and scrubbing away the blood and vomit. He took a good look at himself in the blurred and shattered reflection of the wavy water, before deciding his face was clean enough. He scooped his face close and shakily raised a palm of water to his lips, only to have something pop out from the water and grab his wrist. He tumbled face-first into the murky lake, feeling sharp claws puncture his skin.

Bloody…hell? He thought groggily, but couldn't see more than a couple inches in front of his face. More than that, he knew he was being pulled down at a speed that no basic animal could accomplish, and the pressure only made his already splitting headache worse. Despite it all, he kept his breath. He'd experienced worse forms of torture at Durmstrang, and he'd gotten quite good at holding his breath for more than five minutes, even under intense situations.

If he could just figure out what had hoodwinked him…

The answer presented itself unexpectedly centimeters away from his face, the movement so sudden it nearly knocked the bubbles contained in his mouth. Freaking merpeople, and damn, he thought, they were really ugly. He'd heard stories of them being beautiful and alluring and stuff, but you'd have to be completely plastered and legally blind to be seduced by these devils.

He very faintly recalled learning about them during his second year of school, but he'd been 12 and thought he was cooler than he was then, and hadn't paid a lick of attention to his schooling. The true magic was that he didn't fail out of school around that age. For the first time, he found himself cursing his wandering mind and wishing he'd been more attentive. The most irritating thought that presented itself was that Granger; bloody know-it-all Granger, likely would know exactly how to get out of this situation.

He tried to shake one off his ankle that was currently gnawing on it like it was a piece of meat. He kicked it in the face, which only made it swarming back toward him even angrier. The blinding light of the pain of his headache, combined with the constant pain of these freaking fish people attacking him and the lack of oxygen made him feel dizzy. He let out a bubble, almost falling unconscious, but mentally slapped himself back into focus.

He was fuming mad. The worst possible thing in the world would to perish at the gills of these things, not after storming away from Pansy and not after surviving the hell she's unleashed upon him. He was angry that he was even here, having to participate. Angry he hadn't found anyone in days worth killing, that nothing had felt as good as it did when he'd tortured Lavender. He was being held back from what he could be, he thought bitterly, and these fish people weren't going to get in the way of that.

He grabbed one by the neck, ignoring the biting and clawing that resulted. He gripped hard, and although he wasn't sure if you could choke a mermaid, avada worked just as well. It was the first wandless and wordless magic he'd ever produced, and damn did he really mean that one.

He watched with satisfaction as the body floated lifelessly in the water, the freaky eyes open and staring blankly at her sisters, glazed over and dull. There was a moment of shock, of utter horror- as if these things had feelings, he scoffed inwardly- and that gave him just enough time to kick his way around and grab another. He didn't trust his aim underwater, but he'd do what he had to do.

The most that could be said of it was it was a massacre. Although the people watching above couldn't see what happened below, they watched as one by one, lifeless bodies of merpeople rose ominously to the top of the lake. It wasn't until there was already half the colony dead when Pike exploded from the water, dragging a body with him to shore, dropping it in disgust when his feet touched dry sand.

He looked back, chuckling, "Good riddance, bloody bastards." He said, touching his own battle scars. He wasn't without injuries; indeed, he had at least twice as many bite marks as Hannah, if not more. He'd also lost his right-handed pinky in the fray, although he only felt the pain now. It was worth it though, he would have given his whole hand to continue feeling the anger and power surge through him as he had the ultimate choice to decide between life and death (and he chose death every time) and see the light die from their beady, ugly eyes as he was reminded how much he meant to kill them, and how powerful the spells he was conjuring were.

Other places smarted worse than others, and a couple wouldn't stop bleeding, despite how hard he pushed down, and how many half-recalled healing spells he muttered under his breath. As it turns out, he only had the emotion of anger still burning inside of him, so any light magic was pretty useless to call upon.

Looking back, it was all just sort of a blur- in between that first kill and (as he would learn later) wiping out almost 9/10th's of an entire colony the game-makers has moved for this particular obstacle. No one really expected this, this mindless killing, to happen, and some were outraged, especially after it was revealed the game-makers had made them more violent than usual against their will. Pike didn't care either way; in his opinion, they attacked him, and each and every one of their filthy species deserved to die. But, even if he ever got the chance, he wasn't even sure he'd be able to summon that fire he'd felt the first time. Saying it had just happened was so cliché, but alas, that was the most accurate memory of the event as a whole. He'd just…happened to basically annihilate an entire coven of merpeople. Dark magic, along with a mind already scrambled due to more dark magic, tended to leave lots of things fuzzy in one's mind.

By the time he reached the entrance to the safety zone, he was holding onto his consciousness by the thinnest of strings. He all but collapsed on the front door, fainting from the blood loss.

He was awakened by snapping fingers. He fought through the darkness to see himself in a white room with clean white bandages wrapped all around him, and most unpleasantly to see one of his least favorite teachers above him-Lupin.

"He's awake." Lupin said to a nurse, who began checking his vitals, "Welcome to sanctity."

"Thanks." Pike grinned, "What do I get for making it here first?" He questioned.

Lupin gave a genuine smile, and this unnerved him. "Oh, you're not the first, Mr. Webber. No, someone beat you by about two hours."

"What?" Pike sat up quickly, which was a mistake, because he saw black dots again. The nurse shoved him back down, "Whom? Was it that traitor Malfoy and his little pet Granger?" He questioned. Lupin's mouth pulled into a taut line, clearly displeased with the way he referred to one of his favorite students.

"No, it was Hannah Abbott." He shot down quickly. Pike frowned, trying to recall the name. When he did, he wasn't sure if he should be amused or insulted.

"A Hufflepuff? You're shitting me, aren't you?" He sneered, shaking his head, "Not fucking funny, man."

"Watch your tongue, boy." Lupin snapped, "And I am serious. Hannah Abbott beat you by exactly two hours, twenty eight minutes, and thirteen seconds." He sounded proud.

"Shit." Pike gave a whistle, his fists clenching. Then, he looked Lupin dead in the eye and gave an accepting nod, "Kudos to her, I suppose."

This was not the reply Lupin had clearly been expecting, because he faltered a bit. As Pike saw it, no matter how infuriating it was that Hannah had beaten him, she was at least a half-blood and not Granger. Also, what was being upset with her going to do? He couldn't murder her right now, and he didn't have a time machine to go back in time and get here faster. All he could do right now was either seethe in anger, or he could collect himself before he saw his family.

"Yes, she was very brave." Lupin recovered, "She went through the same trails as you did, although not quite as…ah, violently." He said. Pike knew he wasn't referring to the wounds he had, but to the way of dealing with them. Too bad, he rolled his eyes internally, what did Lupin expect him to do? Have tea and crackers with them? Likely, since he was a bloody werewolf and that was only a step or two up from those blasted merpeople.

"Double kudos to her." Pike settled back down, and he was a smidgen impressed. If he hadn't gotten angry (unlikely, but still) he wasn't sure he'd be here right now. He doubted Hanna had an inch of anger in her body, which meant she'd gotten away somehow. He almost wanted to ask her if he saw her, but then decided he wasn't really interested in anything about a Hufflepuff…no matter how impressive.

He allowed the nurse to flit around him and fix his injuries the best he could after Lupin left. It took a long while, and the nurse tutted about his state more than once. Not only did she fix his merpeople injuries to the best of her ability, but she also cracked his nose back into place without any warning. That one hurt like the Dickens. He'd forgotten he'd broken his nose-or rather someone else did, and it might have been Blaise or Corner-close to the beginning days of the games. Sorely rubbing over the now straightened curve, he was released and informed someone was waiting for him in the visiting areas.

He walked as normally as he could, and saw one door closed (bloody Abbott), and saw another open to him. A girl a couple years older than him with the same color hair and eyes grinned at him through a glass shield.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, baby brother?" She teased, her eyes traveling to the heavily wrapped body of Pike Webber.

"Had a run in with some freaking fish people." He muttered, "And it's good to see you too, Fern. Now you say it back since I'm in the worst game show of forever and you're not the one in it and we haven't seen each other in like three months."

"You're overdramatic, and seem to be doing just fine." Fern shrugged.

"Almost." Pike pressed his fingers to his forehead, recalling his thoughts about Pansy and their…partnership, "I'm having a girl problem."

Fern smirked, "If you said that to me in any other scenario, I'd be bored and done with the conversation, and would try to strangle you before you could say anything else. Luckily for both of us, this isn't one of those scenarios."

THEGREENGAMES

The remaining five contestants all reached the same edge of the forest at different points, yet at roughly the same time. They were all about three behind Pike for various reasons, which had given the Game Makers enough time to erase any evidence that the lake had ever been there. They had much better trials left that were more exciting, and besides, a lake of dead merpeople wasn't the most intimidating of challenges.

Mandy was the first to realize what had started, and also closest by a couple yards. Out of nowhere, a deer shot toward her, knocking her onto her back and kicking the wind from her stomach. She spun around to stare after it, mouth ajar. If her and Cal had known there was deer out there, they could have eaten so much better than the rations they shared between them.

Urg, her heart hurt. It seemed everything reminded her of Cal, which was stupid because they'd only known each other really for a week and a half. Yet she felt like she couldn't walk an inch without something reminding her of him. This was part of the curse of the games, wasn't it? To constantly think of those that got left behind?

A mouse ran over her hand and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Now that she was more aware again, it wasn't just a deer coming her way, but every animal in the forest bounding through the trees straight at her, weaving around her at the last second, like an endless stream.

Dazed, she frowned, staring at the foliage in front of her. She knew in her mind this meant something, this exodus of these animals were wholly significant. She'd even read about it somewhere but what…?

She sniffed the air, realizing what this meant the same time her brain processed the peculiar smell that was now wafting in the air. It was smoke. The forest was on fire.

Mandy stumbled into a standing position, backtracking as she did. Even if this were a regular ole accidental forest fire, which she had little faith of that, she recalled how quickly these things could spread and how deadly they could be.

She stayed as low as she could, because smoke rises, and covered her mouth with her sleeve. Already, the wind had pushed the smoke towards her face.

A flaming branch fell in front of her, inches away from her face. Somehow, the fire had licked its way through the forest and circled around her at an alarmingly fast rate. She jumped back, but felt the hot flames licking all around her. She threw out a hand, coughing out a spell to reduce fires, but it didn't work.

She'd never questioned her abilities before, but now she wondered if she'd said it wrong.

A stray ash caught on her pants leg, and she stomped at it frantically to blot it out, but it seared up her leg. She screamed as the fire burned through her skin, falling out of balance onto the ground, grabbing her leg in agony.

A falling ember lit the ends of her beautiful blonde hair on fire, and she rolled around, managing to put that fire out. The fire on her pants still continued, and with shaking finger she attempted to unbutton her pants, to no avail. The smoke was thick here, and she worried if she'd suffocate.

Her jacket caught to the fire, and she burnt her hands trying to pat this out too. Like the one at the bottom, it was equally as resilient and without the courage to summon a water charm, she could only watch as the flames burned down her skin. Even if she made it out of here alive, she'd be disfigured for the rest of her life, she thought. Not that it was terrible in comparison to dying, but she'd never thought…

There were so many scenarios she'd never thought of before coming into the games, honestly.

Burning to death was certainly never one of them.

Yet, here they were. Here she was.

THEGREENGAMES

The cannon made Ron jump out of his skin. Colin held up two fingers.

"The second today." He observed grimly.

"You don't think-,"

"No." Colin answered far too quickly, but the fear on his face was just as obvious as Ron's, "It's…they're Draco and Hermione. And it wouldn't both be them…" He trailed off.

"Hermione better have freaking made it." Ron muttered.

"Wait, do you smell that Ron?" Colin said, throwing out an arm and stopping Ron mid-step.

"Erm, no?" Ron frowned, "Just smells forest-like. You know, mold and leaves and 'fresh air'. Why, what do you think you smell?" He turned to Colin to see his friend's mouth fully agape, staring up at the sky.

"That." He whispered, and Ron followed his gaze. A thick cloud of smoke rose above the trees, and it seemed to spread closer toward them.

"Is it…do you think…May it will…" Ron couldn't find the right words he was looking for.

"I think we need to get back to the stream we passed. Worst comes to worse, we'll duck into there." Colin said, grabbing Ron's hand and tugging his arm nearly out of the socket with the frantic fashion he u-turned.

"Slow down, buddy."

"You've never seen a forest fire, have you?" Colin said, but did not pause his quick steps, pulling Ron behind him like a child, "It can go from this to that in a second. If we don't hurry, we might get caught in the middle of that fire. And why should we have to deal with that?"

At first, Ron thought maybe Colin's facts weren't all together right. The job of lighting the campfire at their house usually fell to him, because he was the youngest boy (not to say Ginny didn't have to do it occasionally). Even lighting those pieces of wood with magic instead of muggle matches or flint, and having the perfect tee-pee of wood, sticks, and paper to burn, it took forever for it to finally catch fire.

Yet as he stumbled through the forest, being tugged by his blonde companion while Ron tried not to hurt his bum leg more, he re-thought that doubt. He could feel the flames behind him, making sweat dribble down the back of his neck uncomfortably. He could hear the crackling wood and ashes began to fall around them like snow, although it was ugly and overpowering. He understood Colin's pace and frenzied insistence to get to the water.

A package fell right in front of them.

"Grab it, we'll look at it later!" Colin said, but Ron took the briefest of moments to examine what he was picking up. He wrenched his wrist from Colin's grip.

"No, we should open these now." Ron said, tearing through the paper like a savage beast.

"Nothing can be that important that-,"

"Colin, look for a second!" Ron said, his patience running out, "There's only one thing that could be in this shape being sent to us now." He said, throwing one of the parcels at Colin, "Our ticket out of here." He added, unearthing from the parchment paper George's old broomstick.

Colin, armed with Fred's broom, grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...thoughts? :) It's pretty long, but it's all action-filled now, now that we're nearing the end! I admit it's my weakness that put attractive!Voldemort in there. Young Tom Riddle Jr *heart*. But seriously, I really do like Voldemort as a character. There's a lot about him that fascinates me. There's a lot that I identify with, as much as I hate to admit it. I think he's pretty sly, and he always has a plan-as you can start to see here. Although we haven't seen much, he is very much puppeting everything behind the scenes.
> 
> Alive List:
> 
> SLYTHERIN: Pansy, Pike, Draco
> 
> HUFFLEPUFF: Hannah
> 
> GRYFFINDOR: Hermione, Collin, Ron
> 
> So, in a startling turn of events, Ravenclaw is actually the first to lose all their members, after they had the most left in the middle of the game. Things can always change with a snap, remember that!
> 
> Please leave a review :)


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU ALL SHOULD BE PROUD OF ME. Not only did I get this chapter out within two weeks (really good for me, as many of my returners know) but I wrote such a long chapter I actually split it up! It was like 35 pages, so now it's somewhere in between that!   
> I feel that this is the shorter of the two, and that's just, because trust me...it's very emotionally charged.

The grin slowly melted off Colin's face as he stared at the broom, frowning.

"It's been years since I rode a broom." He muttered.

"Once you learn it's impossible to forget," Ron said, already mounting it, "We don't have any time to waste, you know!" He motioned to the steadily growing fire around them.

"Right, right." Collin nodded, locking his jaw, "Brooms are like learning to ride a bike, huh?" He murmured, half to himself. Ron was tying his back tightly to the broom in a triple knot, and snapped his gaze up from what he was doing.

"What in the blazes are you talking about?" Ron said, staring at Colin with confusion.

"Never mind. Some muggle thing." Colin said, gripping the wood of the broom tightly and settling himself on it. There was a familiar feeling to it, just as Ron said, and he was whisked back to being a bright-eyed first year. Back to a time when he was far too curious for his own good and he'd been petrified…sometimes he almost forgot about that incident. But if he could survive a basilisk, he could surly survive the Green Games.

He saw Ron already a foot off the ground, and he jumped lightly, realizing a second later that he was floating. He let out a breath of relief; even though Ron claimed you couldn't forget, he still had the horrible thought that maybe he wouldn't be able to anymore.

"This way!" Ron yelled down to him over the heat of the fire. Colin was grateful for these; Ron's limp leg wouldn't have gotten them far. The best solution he would have had was to hide out in the water, but he feared that would only get them so far. He knew he had to trust Ron here, and he did, so he followed him up, watching in horror as a spiral reached out toward him, nearly nicking the end of his broom.

"We should go higher!" Colin yelled against the wind to Ron, who was hovering too close to the fire for his own comfort.

"Can't." Ron's frown was grim, and he reached upward, but his hand collided with something flat and hard, "Invisible field."

"They aren't going to make this easy, are they?" Colin muttered and his broom swerved to the left to avoid another spiral that had sprang up to greet them.

"It's like the fire knows where we are." Ron said, avoiding his own flamed tongue, "It must be magical fire, something awful at that."

"Blimey, look." Colin felt his throat run dry as he pointed to something below them, "Is that…oh, bugger." He held a hand to his mouth to avoid vomiting.

"A body." Ron said, his voice darkening, "Whoever that canon was for…well, there's not much of them left." He said, glancing down at blackened shape. He saw Colin scanning the area below them.

"I'm looking for Hermione and Draco." Colin replied when he noticed Ron glancing at them.

"If we saw them, what could we do?" Ron questioned, "These brooms aren't meant to hold two people, not with the way we're avoiding these flames." He added, ducking low and almost falling off his own broom, "I hate to admit it but ferret and Hermione are the two smartest people at Hogwarts. If anyone can defeat this fire, surly they can."

Colin didn't stop, but slowly, as he saw the fire eat away more of the land beneath them, he gave a slow nod.

"We should get to the center." He said, turning and pointing to where the fire wasn't blazing and the trees gave away to a clear field, "Who knows…maybe they've beaten us there?"

"I hope so." Ron admitted, "C'mon."

The fire was growing more dangerous in it's attempts to knock the pair off their brooms. More than once both boys had to duck into the blazing forest to avoid a claw that was reaching up to grab them back down, and then veer straight up once again before the bottoms of the brooms or the wood itself could catch fire.

Colin was attempting moves he'd only ever seen done in professional Quidditch matches; moves accompanied by the announcer warning that these stunts shouldn't be attempted at home. Ron seemed to be handling them with a smidgen more grace, as Colin predicted that Ron and his brothers would have tried them at home, regardless of the PSA.

He dodged to the left, but had to lean back to avoid a column that came up right in front of his face. He felt his eyebrows burning off, and he was falling backwards. He felt his life flash before his eyes, and by some matter of luck, his hand grasp the tail end of the broom, splinters embedding in his skin as he dangled off it, holding on for dear life.

"Ron!" He yelled back, struggling to get back onto the broom. His hands were slippery from his own fearful sweat and the heat of the fire burning beneath him. He could hear the crackling as it destroyed the forest, and he took a glance below him. It was a mistake, for he saw what could only be described as the depths of the underworld beckoning to him. He tried in vain to latch onto the broom with his other hand, but couldn't for the life of him find the right grip.

And then, he was falling.

He closed his eyes, heart beating widely in his chest as he began to accept his fate, until he felt the back of his shirt grabbed and he was yanked to a stop.

"Get on!" Ron yelled up to him, both dangling mere feet away from the fire.

"But you said it can't hold two people!"

"If you think I'm leaving you, then you're pretty dumb, Creevy!" Ron shouted back, "Grab on!"

Colin used all the strength he had left to climb behind Ron, and they zipped out of the centre of it all, coughing from the smoke. Colin bent around Ron to the ground, and saw Fred's broom tumble into the mass, bursting into ashes the moment the flames touched it.

"Shite, mate." Colin winced, "I'm sorry-,"

"Hey, no apologizing. Better it than you." Ron said, "We just need to get there soon. This old broom won't keep both of us on it forever." He said.

Colin hardened, shaken though by his near-death experience. On one hand, he'd been so ready to accept death, but on the other hand, now that he was farther away from it, he realized he should have been much more terrified. Perhaps that's what the games did this late into it, they desensitized the idea of death for you.

He could feel the broom begin to lag, stumbling down inch by inch.

"We won't make it Ron!" Colin said, seeing their destination lading place, but realizing they would hit the ground long before that.

"We'll be fine!" Ron snapped back, steering the broom the best he could to keep them from falling off.

There was a 'whomph' sound behind Colin, and he spun around to see the tail end of the broom had caught on fire.

"We have a problem Ron."

"I'm well aware." Ron snapped back, and now the broom was truly falling from the sky. They were coming in much to fast the ground, now mostly ashes, but the fire still burned in waiting.

"Jump when I say jump!" Ron commanded.

"But we're not to the center!"

"We'll have to run," Ron replied back, seemingly confident but Colin could hear the slight quiver in his voice, "Jump!" He commanded, and had Ron's own weight tearing off to the side not disrupted Colin's own weight, he might not have realized what was happening.

Yet in the last second before he hit the ground, he recalled the training from the Training Area and tucked his body into a ball, rolling on the sooty ground.

"Ow." He moaned, and then blinked with awareness, standing up. Both he and Ron were covered in black dust from head to toe…but Merlin, they were both alive.

"Ron, Colin!" Someone called their name from afar, and they both spun in the fire to see Draco and Hermione through the smoke.

"Hermione!" Ron breathed in relief, "You're okay!"

"That was quite the landing." Draco commented with a hint of ire when he was close enough to stand before both of them.

"Oh, shut it, ferret." Ron said, but he almost laughed.

"We should get out of here guys, before the fire comes for us." Colin said, glancing warily around. The temperature was still unbearable. And now that they were on the ground, the fire seemed to be retreating and coming the opposite way, toward them.

"Quite right." Draco said, "We need to run."

THEGREENGAMES

Before the met up, and before they made it through, Hermione and Draco watched in horror at the fire that came about far too quickly. They'd both decided not to think about the canon. Hermione didn't know what she'd do if it was Ron, and she hadn't been there to save him. Draco was frowning, and the only person she could imagine he might be worried about was Colin, which surprised her. Everyone else he could likely do without right now.

But now they had to focus on something else, that thing being the flame.

Hermione stumbled back a few feet. Draco tried an incantation to kill fires, but to no avail. He stared dumbfounded at his hand, uncomprehending as to why it didn't work.

"Draco…I'm seeing things. The fire…it looks like a dragon or a snake or something…" She whispered.

At her words, Draco's head snapped up.

"What?" He asked, and turned to stare at the fire, "Damn it." He cussed after a moment, kicking a rock, "It's Fiendfyre." He said.

"What?" Hermione said, fanning herself and stripping her heavier jacket. She shoved it frantically into her beaded bag.

"Dark magic, why you've probably never heard of it." Draco said grimly, "It's no ordinary fire, Granger. It actively seeks out victims and if no one stops it, it will destroy the entire arena."

He twisted his fingers in his hair, "Merlin, I read about the counter-charm once, but I can't remember it!"

"How do we beat it?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"Beat it?" Draco gave a laugh, "There's no 'beating' this fire, Granger! It's one of the most destructive forces that magic can create. If there's anything living," He ground a fist into his open palm, "It crushes it."

"I can see that." Hermione licked her lips, seeing the fire already changing its course and bounding toward them.

She turned around, screwing her eyes shut. Going backwards was not an option, it would follow them. She couldn't imagine that either of them could make a levitation spell strong enough to get them over the fire, and that would require one of them staying behind. Draco couldn't remember the counter-charm, and even if he did, Hermione doubted it could quench a fire this large. There was the possibility they could dig under, but as she had learned from falling with Seamus, there might be caverns they couldn't anticipate and that might be even worse.

"Hermione?" Draco asked nervously.

"Quiet!" She snapped, "I'm thinking."

"Well can you think a little faster?" He asked. She opened one eye.

"I don't see you coming up with any ingenious solutions!" She replied hotly.

"Because I don't think there's a way out of this, short of us ceasing to exist and-,"

"That's it!" Hermione threw down her buttoned bag, digging through it.

"What's it?"

She pulled out the invisibility cloak with triumph. She sided up next to him, and threw it over their heads.

"A bloody cloak? I know that Potter loved this thing to death, but an invisibility cloak doesn't make us gone, it just makes us invisible." He said.

"Most cloaks, yes." Hermione said, adjusting it so it covered them both. She pushed him down so they were squatting a bit, so that the fabric went all the way to the ground, shielding them in a layer of thick material, "But Ron had some suspicions about this one, because it's at least thirty years old and still just as magical. You ever heard of the Deathly Hallows?"

"The children's tale? Please, Granger, of course I know that. It's a fairy tale."

"But it's not." Hermione said, locking eyes with him, "This cloak..It's the one the third brother used to hide from death."

Draco's eyes snapped up, shaking his head.

"No bloody way…"

"Harry's ancestors were the Peveralls. It was handed down. That's our theory anyway, I mean, this is our only chance. If it's not, we don't have any other options anyway. But if it is, and this really let someone hid from death-,"

"Then it stands to reason that it could make us invisible from something that seeks out life, like death does." He said, the biggest grin she'd ever seen cross his face, "Merlin, you're brilliant Granger!"

Hermione blushed, "We need to make sure it's covering us at all times. I don't know what would happen otherwise."

"There is one spell I know that might help us get through this. Can we cast spells through this thing?" He asked.

"I don't know…maybe. I've never tried, and I only ever saw Harry do it outside. Perhaps if someone is strong enough…" She trailed of, frowning.

"Well…" Draco murmured, pressing a hand against the fabric, "Partus Temporis." He all but yelled, and for a second there was nothing. She saw him straining to push his magic forward, his jaws clenched and eyebrows deeply knit.

Slowly, the fire in front of them started to split.

"Draco! It's working." She said excitedly, and resisted the urge to clap her hands since she was holding up the cloak. Draco just managed a grunt and a nod, and slowly they began to walk forward.

The flame creatures that lurked in the forest now, devouring full oak trees and leaving piles of charred bones of animals in its wake, curled around them but never attacked them. This was hand down one of the most terrifying experiences in Hermione's life. It was like swimming with sharks or walking into a pit of tigers, she knew one wrong movement, one foot or ankle accidently shown, could kill them both. It was walking against a current, swimming upward although everything was pushing you the other way.

She saw the destruction and believed Draco when he claimed how dangerous this was. It was a slow going, tedious process of Draco clearing a way for them, and then inch by inch both of them moving in tandem and crunching over the death that lay at their feet.

Every second, every snap of a branch around them sounded like a snapping bone, and Hermione would have a moment of panic that someone had seen their clever way around the flames, and sent them into their location anyway. She couldn't even imagine how far away the center was still, because every time they walked another couple miles, more flames and fire, seemingly undying, met them.

Yet, soon the fire began to thin out, moving the opposite direction they forged on, clearly seeking the still standing trees and forest that lay behind them.

"We're almost through." She heard Draco whisper, sounding tired, and it was the first thing he'd said since they began the trek into the fire. She nodded, relief washing over her. She kept telling herself just a couple more steps, and then they'd be safe. Just one more yard, just one more push. Just as they were reaching an area with the least amount of fire they'd seen, only a couple flaming bushes remained, Draco stumbled forward onto the ground.

"Draco?" Hermione asked worriedly, stuffing the cloak back into the bag. He was out cold, but she knew that they couldn't stay here. Now that they were out in the open without the cloak, it would be dangerous for them to stay more than a couple seconds.

She tried lifting him, but found it far too heavy.

She put her hands on the side of his face, focusing and hoping that by using both her hands-even though her left hand was shit and still all mangled- she pressed all her magic toward him. "Enervate."

Draco's eyes snapped open with a gasp.

"What happened?"

"You got us almost all the way through. Get up, we have to keep moving." She said, getting behind him and forcing him onto his feet. He stood, but stumbled to the left a bit, grabbing his head.

"Merlin, I feel like I've been run over by a truck."

"You used so much magic to save us, I can see why." Hermione said, "C'mon, the fiendfyre…" She reminded. His eyes blinked back into awareness, the haze vanishing from his gaze.

"Of course." He said, looking behind them nervously, "What's that?" He asked, looking up to see what looked like two figures of a broomstick careening toward the ground, the end of the broom smoking thick and black. The two watched in horror as it disappeared down the trees, but amazingly, no cannon sounded. Hermione's eyes turned back toward the remaining trees in front of them, scanning with a small prayer of her lips.

Hermione saw figures on the edge of her vision. Relief washed over her as she broke away from Draco's grasp, stumbling forward and cupping her mouth with both her hands.

"Ron! Colin!" She said, and two heads turned her way.

"They're alive…" Draco said, and she could detect only relief in his voice. Perhaps it was the realization that whoever did die, it was someone he didn't care about, and hopefully Pansy (as unrealistic as that was- the girl was a cockroach; annoyingly able to survive seemingly anything).

"We can make to the center together." Hermione said, running off toward them before Draco could protest.

"That was quite the landing." Draco said first when they reached the pair, and Hermione hit him in the side.

"Oh, shut it ferret." Ron said, and Hermione could nearly detect laughter in there. Perhaps nearly dying in a blaze of glory meant even your previous-worst-enemy wasn't all too terrible anymore.

"We should get out of here, guys, before the fire comes to us." Colin broke in nervously, sending glances back at the flames every few seconds. Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. Did he know this was Fiendfyre? How did he know the fire sought out people? Or had he just merely noticed by his own trials to make it through?

Either way, he was absolutely correct. The fire was now reaching back toward them, hungered and vicious.

"Quite right." Draco agreed, looking back, "We need to run."

They all seemingly started running at once.

They were all equally matched- Ron with one leg clearly limping behind, Draco from sheer exhaustion that he'd already used to get he and Hermione through the fire, Hermione because she wasn't totally back to her full health yet, and Colin who hadn't ridden a broom in ages because his legs seemed to ache. The fire seemed to taunt them, growing faster as they hobbled in the direction they all hoped was the middle.

Like an angle song, the trees disappeared and the soot in front of them melded into a beautiful green color. The colossal safe space loomed above them, welcoming and Hermione could see the outline of her parents at the walls and tears started leaking down her face.

Draco put on a burst of speed and made it to the center first, Colin moments behind them. Hermione could imagine hugging her parents and hugging Draco and Colin and Ron when-

"No!" Ron's strangled cry stopped her. She turned, and saw Ron turning around fully, "No, no, no-,"

"Ron, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, seeing the panic in Ron's eyes.

"My bag…I forgot…it's still with the broom. I have to go and get it!" He said.

"There's nothing that important that you could possibly need. We're so close, Ron." Hermione said, reaching out for him.

"You don't understand. Elizabeth's dragon is in there. She made me promise…I promised Hermione. I have to do this for her." There was a conviction on his face that startled her; and this mask was a million emotions at once; guilt, anguish, pity, understanding…it all flashed on his face before Hermione could dissect any of them.

"Ron, it might not even be there still. This fire destroys everything."

"I have to try. I'll hate myself and I'll be a disgrace to what I promised if I don't try to find it, Hermione. The bag was magic, Fred commissioned it for me. He said it could withstand any magic force. I have to do this." He said, and before Hermione could stop him, he ran back into the forest fire that now consumed everything once again.

"Ron!" Hermione ran forward, to do what she wasn't sure, but found herself colliding with an invisible barrier. The flames came right up to inches where she was, but rode up the barrier, unable to touch her. The barrier was made to keep the dangers that people had to face to get her out, but now, it kept Hermione in.

"Ron!" She cried, banging against the barrier, "Let me out! Let me get to him!"

She felt Draco and Colin trying to tug her back, but she wrenched out of both of their grips, pressing her face hard against the barrier, her only thought in the world was her prayers to keep Ron safe.

THEGREENGAMES

The entire forest was awful. He had sweat through all he clothes long ago, and he dodged the tongues of fire that licked out at him seemingly at every step. The smoke was unbearable, and after coughing in a couple extremely painful breaths, he threw his sweat-stained shirt off to cover his mouth. He tied it around him like an oversized handkerchief, but his eyes still stung from the heat.

Nothing looked familiar, the fire having already eaten away any pathways he recognized the first time around. He panicked, wondering if it didn't even matter and he'd never find where he and Colin had fallen away from the broom.

A wall of fire jumped up in front of him, singing away the hair on his arms, as he stumbled to the left. He coughed painfully, the shirt helping a little, but overall not blocking the gaseous leftovers.

He saw an area where foot prints had kicked up the soot, and a song of hope began to play as he back tracked it to where he and Colin had crash landed. He searched through the forest surrounding it, digging his hands into the dirt and the incinerated things on the ground, searching for his black magical bag.

On one hand, he realized how dangerous this was. On the other…the pull he felt, the feeling of absolution to this cause was something he couldn't ignore. He'd promised to be a better person, someone that Luna would be proud to watch over, and he'd made a pact with Elizabeth. He'd hated her and blamed her and almost left her for dead, and to make sure that her one small request was filled before she sacrificed herself before becoming a monster was far to little of what she deserved.

The thought that he might not fulfill this question of him made his whole body seize uncomfortably. Although they hadn't made an Unbreakable Bond they might as well have, the way that he was sure that if he didn't find this, he might as well stop trying.

He could feel it was his guilt, deep down. That right before she'd died, he'd seen how good and pure she was, how she was just a child and understood how Luna could have given herself up to protect her so easily. Wasn't he doing the same now? She had a hold on them, but not in a toxic way, but in the way that everyone she met seemed darker than herself, and she made people want to be that better person.

She made them want to be good and pure like she'd been.

Ron's fingers touched something hard and leathery. He triumphantly held up his dragon-skin bag, and found it mostly untouched. The metal ring from George's broom lay near it, the only thing left of his once beloved broom. Ron grabbed that as well, although it was as hot as a coal, and stuffed in into his pocket, feeling relieved. He wasn't going to disappoint Luna or Elizabeth, but most importantly, he wasn't going to disappoint himself.

He wiped his face and his hands came back dark gray, stained with filth. His eyes burned and watered and he saw ugly welts on his fingers and up his arms, the fire so hot an intense he hadn't even felt the burns occurring. He knew this was a problem.

He tied the bag onto his back and forced his way forward, now knowing that safety and his family was not too far off.

He tore down his shirt from his face when he realized it was getting hard to breathe, assuming the excess fabric was the culprit. It helped a little, until he inhaled a large mouthful of acidic smoke. He coughed up some bile onto the ground, wiped his mouth, and kept going. He couldn't remember a time when everything hurt so much and similarly nothing hurt at all. He could see the end in sight; Hermione sobbing against the barrier- he laughed, she'd always been so emotional- and Draco and Colin looking into the forest with concern too. He smirked; he didn't know ferret cared so much.

When Hermione saw him, her whole face lit up and she began crying again, although it was happy sobs. He felt the heat of the flames vanish the second he crossed to here Hermione was standing, and triumphantly held up the bag. Although his head swam violently and his voice was almost non-existent, he still managed to say, "I did it."

THEGREENGAMES

Hermione's eyes scanned his. He was so darkly covered in the ashes that no one would be able to guess he was a ginger, and his eyes were bloodshot. There were an array of burns up his hands, and some of his hair was singed off. He looked utterly awful, but he was alive goddam it. She flung herself at him, crying into his shoulder. They hadn't been so close in years, but seeing him like this reminded her of all the times she'd thought he was going to die in their first three years of friendship. She hated the Gryffindor stubbornness at that moment, their heroicness and bull-headed attitude when they set their mind to do something.

"Mione…" His voice was rough, like he'd lost it, "I'm fine…" But even as he muttered those words, he stumbled a big, leaning against her.

Hermione was at one side immediately, Colin at the other as the held Ron between them. He coughed, and it was the worst thing she'd ever heard.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I can walk myself." He said after the daze left him, shoving Colin away lightly.

"But you shouldn't have to." Hermione said, but he chuckled, shaking her off.

"I feel awesome, Hermione. Top of the world." He said, "I did it. I thought I was going to die, but Elizabeth's request will be accomplished."

"I'm glad, but I'm more pleased you're here now. We need to get you in; that can't have been good for you." Hermione insisted, hands gracing over all his burn marks.

"Okay, if you say so." He shrugged, sounding a little slurred, and walked with Hermione toward the building. She saw her own parents and the whole of the Weasley family that was left through the glass pane. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing, and Hermione felt a glimmer of relief. Just a couple more steps and she'd be able to hug her son again.

Ron managed to get to the side of the building closet to them before he swayed and fell on his bottom, and he moaned, leaning against the side of the building.

"Ron! Get up, just a couple more steps, then you can rest, I promise." Hermione said, trying to tug him up, but he was a dead weight.

"Rest…now…" He rasped out, his voice even worse and his breathing raw and difficult, "Just…give…me…a…second…"

"No." Hermione felt her eyes water, "You can't Ron, and you're dying. You need to get in there."

This seemed to set something off in his mind, because he looked at Hermione with a flash of panic, but it was replaced by an empty glazed look.

"Her…nee…" He couldn't even get her full name out, "Liz wanted her parents….to get the dragon. I'm jus…just lettin' you know…" He forced out, "So you know…"

THEGREENGAMES

Ron's whole mind was so mixed up, he couldn't think straight. Also, it felt like someone had taken an axe to his head and hit it repeatedly. His whole body hurt so much that taking a step was agonizing, because it made him breath and breathing hurt the worst.

He didn't even fully understand where he was or what was going on, but he saw a place where he could sit up against, and his body crumpled down. He felt someone trying to nag him up, but he couldn't be bothered. He was so tired, goddamit, didn't she understand that? All he needed was just a second to close his eyes, and then he'd move wherever Hermione so desperately wanted him to move.

She moved her lips, but he couldn't understand what she was saying, not at first. Then, something registered.

You're dying.

Was he? Ron's whole body was fuzzy with a sort of bliss, a bliss that frankly he didn't want to leave right now. But Hermione was smart, and he wouldn't just say anything, so he decided to focus on that phrase.

He looked down at his hands, and saw the dragon bag there with a little stuffed dragon inside, and the whole reason for going into the smoky forest came rushing back at him. He looked Hermione in the eyes, and tried to make it as clear as he could that this had to get to Elizabeth's parents…not that he did think he was dying, but you know, because someone else should know.

The world above him was droned out with blackness, a thick sense that coated him and kept him warm. Mhh…it was so nice here. Maybe if Hermione was here, she wouldn't be so worried about everything, you know? But she was usually right, and if she really insisted they had to leave, he'd leave…just give him a little time.

He closed his eyes for a couple more seconds, although Hermione protested above him, and he opened his eyes to assure her that he was perfectly fine and soon they could get medical help, but for right now he just needed a second or two. Yet when he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at a pair of emerald green eyes he'd only seen of late in his dreams.

"Harry?"

THEGREENGAMES

Ron's head lulled after informing her about the dragon, placing the bag between them, his breath growing even scarcer.

"No!" Hermione clasp his hand, "Stand up Ron, c'mon!" She turned back to Colin and Draco who were both staring like a deer-in-headlights look, stunned, "Get him up!"

The both stumbled forward but suddenly Draco shot his arm out, stopping Colin and shaking his head. Hermione didn't understand the gesture, until she turned back and her breath caught in her throat.

Ron was blinking at something, seemingly much more with it, staring with wonder. "Harry?"

Hermione stuffed her sleeve into her mouth to keep from crying. Harry's glasses were fogged up with tears, and he sent Hermione a positively anguished look. But when he looked at Ron, he was masking this for his sake. But Hermione understood; this was the worst day in the world for him.

"Hey, Ron." He replied, trying to smile and make Ron feel comfortable.

"Blimey, Harry! You look like you're almost my age. Not how I remember you…" He frowned, reaching out and touching Harry's arm, "I can touch you?"

Harry cleaned his glasses on his shirt, chuckling. "Yeah, you can."

Realization dawned on Ron; his face underneath the ash paling so white you could have mistaken him for a ghost.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" He asked and Harry gave a slow, pained nod. He looked at Hermione, shaking his head, "No, not you too…"

"I'm not dead, I'm fine, Ron." She said, her voice masked with tears.

"Oh, good." He breathed, then a sense of unfulfilled panic grasp him, "The dragon, Elizabeth's-,"

"I'll get it to her parents." Hermione promised, grabbing his hand. It felt cold in her palm.

"So you're here to take me to the afterlife." Ron said, frowning, "No offense, mate. But I had hoped it would be Luna."

"What I'm not as pretty as her? I do take offense." Harry teased, but shook his head; "She's on the other side, waiting for you. She couldn't have known how soon you'd be joining her. She hoped, I hoped, you'd win." He said, growing serious.

"I'm going to see Luna again." Ron repeated, as if he hadn't really meant what he'd said before, the fact settling upon him. He looked so happy, so darn happy, "And my brothers."

Harry sniffled, nodding, "Yeah, you will. They're all waiting."

"My family here." Ron said, frowning, "They're waiting for me…just on the other side of the glass." He said, and Hermione looked slightly over his shoulder to see his whole family pressed firmly against the glass.

"I'll make sure they know you love them. And any other message for them." Hermione promised.

"Okay," Ron said and relayed a couple messages, "But I want to…Harry, I can't move my arm!" Ron said, panic gripping his voice, "I want to…"

Harry seemed to understand without Ron having to spell it out. They always had a bond like that, Hermione mused. He took Ron's fingers splayed out on the glass, and helped Ron move his body so he was facing the window. Molly pressed a hand up against the glass, and Harry pressed Ron's hand against hers. Ron sniffled, looking away.

Hermione met Harry's glance. He gave a twitch of a smile, and it said all the thousands of things that words never could. She closed her eyes and inhaled their mixed scent one last time, both vivid and unique and the smell of her childhood, something she hadn't felt in a long time.

"You'd better win, Hermione." Harry said, shaking his head, "I won't lose both of you."

"I plan on it." She replied, and looked at Ron.

"I love both of you." She said, and both boys gave her small smiles, but it meant the world to her. She hoped they understood how awful this moment was for her.

"Who would have thought it would come to this, all those years ago, the moment we all met on the train?" Ron asked, "And you told me that my spell was stupid and faulty."

"Or that you'd be the last one here."

"We all thought that, c'mon Harry. It's Hermione." He said, and Harry snorted, but he agreed.

"At least we can say goodbye." Ron said, looking at her, "I'll see you again one day, though. So I'm not really quite sure it's goodbye. I'll tell Seamus you miss him. Even if you don't, I mean he'd like to hear it anyway."

"I do miss him. And this can't be goodbye forever…I won't believe that." Hermione said, closing her eyes to keep from sobbing all over him. She gave a harrowed breath before she gave them last look. They nodded to her, a farewell and a sign of assurance, and that was what she would remember most. Then, before her eyes Harry faded away, as did the light from Ron's eyes. His body slumped lifelessly, his hand sliding down the glass and leaving a sooty and bloody handprint on the glass as the canon rang out.

Hermione sobbed, and felt Draco hugging her. She glanced up, and she might have been mistaken, but there was the faint figure of a messy black-haired boy with his arm thrown around the shoulders of a ginger boy, both laughing in their own world.

Whether it was them or not, she had a very bad feeling-or may it rather be a very good feeling- that she might never see Harry's spirit again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? No, I'm not crying. I just have a twig or a branch in my eye...I feel like I might be some angry villages with pitchforks coming after me...HE'S IN A BETTER PLACE! HE'S WITH LUNA AND PERCY AND GEORGE AND CHARLIE NOW!
> 
> So, with this chapter, I have the entire next chapter written out, where Hermione will see her parents and Fred, Draco will see his parents, Hermione will have some starting realizations, and there's a HUGE (and I mean H-U-G-E) Dramione moment. 
> 
> I don't know if anyone's figured it out, but with the challenges I meant to mimic the Triwiz Tournament. You know, maze, merpeople, and fire...I meant to tie the dragon in with having Draco fly him and Hermione out of there because his animangus is a dragon (Huge surprise there, huh?) but I completely forgot until I wrote it like this and I like it better this way. I'll pull out Draco's animangus later, I think.
> 
> ALIVE LIST
> 
> HUFFLEPUFF: Hannah
> 
> SLYTHERIN: Draco, Pike, Pansy
> 
> GRYFFINDOR: Hermione, Colin
> 
> In some news about my life I'd like to share, I feel like my sister is in a Dramione fanfiction. She and this boy literally started the year 'hating' each other (but secretly liked each other) and gradually became friends and now they're dating.
> 
> I also went to a comic con last weekend and GOT TO MEET ELIZABETH HENDRIGE AND BRETT DALTON (simmons and ward from Agents of Shield). I'm so in love with Brett Dalton I, oh my god. I got a autograph and a selfie with him. I got some pretty cool stuff there, but somehow my sister convinced my dad to buy her a sugar glider. What kind of kid can do that? I would have never been able to get away with that. I mean, it's pretty awesome. He's adorable. We named him Wade Wilson and we just call him Wilson *heart eyes*
> 
> Remember to leave a review! The more reviews I get, the faster you get POSSIBLY THE BEST DRAMIONE SCENE IN THE ENTIRE NOVEL!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT NOTICE** So I updated two chapters within like three days of each other. If the last person you recall dying is Mandy, go back and read the previous chapter because you probably haven't read the one before this new one. This chapter will spoil some things you'd probably rather read happening itself! And, if you could be so kind, perhaps review both chapters?**

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I can't even imagine…" Draco whispered, drawing her back to the present. She looked at Ron's body, slumped against the wall and unmoving, and forced herself to look. She met Mrs. Weasley's face and that was the worst mistake because she just couldn't stop after that.

Colin grabbed Ron's bag while Draco led Hermione inside.

They were greeted by Lupin, who looked haunted. He hugged Hermione too, and she appreciated the sentiment.

"Are you okay?" Draco's nervous voice asked in her ear. She turned blearily toward him, wondering if he was asking physically or mentally.

"I don't know how to answer that." She replied evenly, frankly not having an answer for either.

She looked up and saw both Draco and Colin eyeing her with concern, as if they expected her to snap at any moment. It was a reasonable thing to expect, seeing how she'd handled death at other times. But today, after this, after all this death and having to say goodbye to yet another friend, Hermione's mind was never clearer.

"I want to see my parents and I want," She paused, looking at Lupin, "No, I need to see the Weasleys." She said quietly, but firmly.

"In due time." Lupin put his hands on her shoulders, "But first we need you to get looked at. Letting that fall to the wayside will only hurt you in the long run. You have time to see them, you're safe." He said, giving her an encouraging smile.

"For now…" She whispered under her breath, but Lupin didn't hear. This was only temporary. In 12 hours she'd be thrown back out to the games, and all the nice things she'd experience here would only be memories.

She turned to find where she was supposed to go next when a familiar voice called her name. Hermione snapped around, eyes widening with glee.

"Hannah?" She asked, so pleased she was here, that it was one less friend she'd have to deal with being dead, "Oh, Thank Merlin!" She'd forgotten how much she missed her friend until the little blonde launched herself into Hermione's arms.

For the first couple moments, Hermione just melted with relief into Hannah's embrace. But…something about it was off. It wasn't until Hermione pulled back that a cold horror filled her when she glanced at Hannah. On her right side, there just wasn't an arm there anymore…just a swollen nub.

"Please, don't give me that look of pity." Hannah asked, and Hermione hadn't even realized she was giving such a look, and she felt ashamed, "I'm still alive aren't I? I was the first one here, actually." She said, pride brimming in her voice.

"Of course. It's just…I didn't expect it."

Hannah's eyes switched to Draco, "I thought for sure you would have told her." She said, tone unreadable.

"I…" Hermione glanced to Draco and saw shame flush his face, "I did the best I could but I couldn't save the arm. I'm sorry." He said. Hannah pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Cedric told me the whole story about that night, all the bloody details." She said, shuddering a bit, "I'm amazed I'm still alive. If loosing an arm is what I have to give to keep my life, I don't think that's far too much to ask. I know you tried. So…thank you." Hannah said, uncomfortable as she clearly felt to thank him.

"It was the right thing to do." Draco said, perhaps the most humble moment Hermione had seen. He had no reason to save Hannah, he hadn't even known she'd been a great friend with Hermione, and if she had died, it would have been the tragedy of the games. The fact he'd tried spoke bigger to Hermione than other things. It was like him helping Ron; purely because indeed it was the right thing to do.

"But hey, I mean, I've learned to write with my left hand now, so it's not all bad. And look how buff my arm is." Hannah said, flexing her remaining arm. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. She was always the optimist. She missed her bright sunny jokes. But now they were together again and there was no reason they shouldn't continue their alliance.

"Hannah," Lupin coughed, "They should get to medical. There will be plenty of time for catching up after." He said.

"Oh! Yes, of course. I'm so sorry, you look awful. Well, I mean, no worse that I did but…well, I'll find you later." Hannah said, surging forward and hugging Hermione again before letting go. Even one-armed, her hugs were just as comforting.

Lupin pointed toward the medical wing, and the three of them traveled in a line together. Hermione had an aching awareness of the person that should have been there, the missing fourth. Loosing Ron was like losing Seamus all over again, but it was loosing Harry again too. In her heart, she knew it was going to end badly either way. It had to be him or Draco, and quite honestly, the last time she mused upon it she wasn't sure if she'd be able to choose between them. But now, she hated to admit Draco had a small edge on that, but to give up Ron was still something she couldn't have done willingly.

It was more in these short moments Hermione felt inexplicably changed, that she'd aged years in just minutes. Did someone not truly consider himself or herself an adult when their childhood died? Usually it was a metaphorical death, but to Hermione, her childhood was hanging by a thread and that was Ron. And now, even he was gone.

A medi-witch came into view and Draco's whole face lit up.

"Miriam!" He said, jumping forward to hug her, leaving black soot all down her white clothes. She'd never seen Draco be so comfortable with any adult before, not even his own parents.

"Draco! Thank Merlin, I was so worried about you." She said, putting both her hands on the side of his face, drawing back to look at him. If you didn't know better, you could have assumed it was his grandmother, the way she looked at him with such tenderness, "But I knew I'd taught you well."

"I owe my being here to you." He said. Miriam tapped his hand.

"Now, now. You're quite excellent on your own, as I've told you before." She chuckled, looking at the two Gryffindor hovering behind him, "Well, aren't you three a sight for sore eyes. Any life-threatening injuries?" She asked, and luckily, there was none.

Therefore, she stared with Colin, who at the most had some calluses, a burn here and there, and many splinters from the broom ride in. Draco and Hermione sat on one of the empty cots, using a towel to wipe off as much ash as they could. Colin winced every time Miriam plucked another sliver from his finger.

"Merlin, boy, with the amount of splinters in here you could be a porcupine!" She said, motioning to all the pieces of wood sticking out of his hands.

"I feel like I touched one." He grunted his teeth in pain.

Hermione chuckled, and Draco gave her a curious look. "She's so kind and funny."

"Not what you expected, huh?" He said, watching her work like a hawk.

"Well, it's you. And I mean, I guess I wouldn't have thought you'd find someone so warm and nice so enjoyable."

"You're warn and enjoyable and I like you." He pointed out. Hermione let out a little snort; she didn't have an answer for him about that.

Miriam finished Colin swiftly, wrapping his hands and touching some burn salve on the places he'd been singed, and sent him on his way.

Next she examined Hermione. She first went for the burns on her too, and once that was done, demanded to see her past wounds to see how they were coming along, not that she could do much, she explained, but at most she could monitor them.

"We'll be here a long time." Hermione sighed, and began with her back, the first serious injury that Draco had done. Then she moved onto everything else; her crushed hand, the knife wound, the burns from Draco's soul too, and every little scrape in between.

Miriam re-set a couple of her fingers, promising that soon it would be fixed enough to use magic again, but to take it easy, if possible. She was most interested with, unsurprisingly, the magical burn wounds from the soul, and Hermione's knife wound.

"You did well, Draco." She applauded, "For what you had to work with." Draco grinned, "But the matter of these burns which, I honestly can say I haven't ever seen on anything else before. I was watching it all, you know."

Hermione upturned her hands to show the black and leathered skin.

"Will it ever heal?"

"It's hard to say. I've never encountered it before, and some magics are powerful and leave residues. This might be it." Hermione nodded, examining her hands, imagining her whole rest of her life that they might look like this.

She was strangely okay with that. It reminded her of something miraculous she'd managed to do.

"I thought you'd like it." Draco admitted, "The soul bit."

"I did." Her eyes glimmered, and she turned to Hermione, "You're free to go and see your visitors."

"Thank you." She hopped off the cot, "I'll find you later, okay?" She told Draco, brushing up against his arm. He nodded, watching her go.

"I think you're right, you know." Miriam said, startling Draco, and she motioned for him to sit where Hermione had been, "That under a very small set of circumstances would she have been able to do what she did." She went to Draco's shirt, pulling it up to see the long scar above his heart, almost curling around his neck and ending at his waist.

"I'm lucky to be alive in many ways."

"And you're a damn good healer, too."

Draco smiled for a moment, but then his face fell. "But I can't go back to it." He said, slouching down as Miriam began to put the salve on his burns. She frowned.

"Why? You love it, don't you? Or have the games changed your mind?"

"Of course I love it." He said, wincing as she pulled a splinter from his hand, "But it is the games…I killed Daphne and Tracy. That breaks the code."

"I think that the Green Games is a suitable excuse." Miriam scoffed, "And both times, you were doing it to try to kill someone else. I don't think you intended to kill either of those people, did you?"

"Of course not!"

"Then, I will vouch for you on the council. If you truly love being a healer, we will make it work." There was silence, "I'm finished. Go and enjoy your hours of freedom. Then, you need to get back out there and win."

"I will." He agreed, but she caught his fingers before he left.

"Whatever the cost, Draco." She said gravely, and he gulped, understanding. While it was a slight relief to hear her say he still had a chance to win, he just couldn't justify killing anyone else, even if that was the cost. It was so un-Slytherin of him to think that. He could see the means justifying the end for anything except taking a life. That was the barrier he could not let himself pass unless he wanted to fall into a pit of darkness.

He found the meeting rooms quite easily, and the first door was open for him. He steadied himself, slicked his hair to make it look almost manageable, and pushed the door open.

"Draco!" His mother sighed in relief. He saw their reflection on the glass, and felt a smidgen deflated. But he wasn't surprised by it, and that was the sad thing.

"Hey mum, dad." He greeted, pulling up a chair to as close to the glass as he could get.

"How are you feeling, son?" His father asked, "We know how much energy it would have taken to fight off the feindfyre for so long."

"Honestly? I'm knackered." He ran a couple fingers through his hair, "I'm looking forward to sleeping on a bed, even if it is just a crappy cot."

"You're so close, dear. I know you can do it." His mother said, "Please, come home to me."

Draco chuckled, nodding, and tilted his head downward. He looked up, biting his lip.

"How did my name get in there?" He questioned, looking at his father.

"I've been trying to figure it out, but so far, no one knows. The names were burned soon after Umbridge took them, so for all I know, it might have never been your name on the card."

That was an acceptable and reasonable explanation, but in his heart, Draco didn't think that was it.

"I guess I'm just curious. It doesn't change things at all now." He twiddled his thumb. His parents looked worried at each other, and he caught their glance, "What?"

"You just seem…different." His mother said cautiously.

"Sterner, less happy." His father added.

"There's not a lot to be happy about right now." He said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, what about that Granger girl?" His mother said, and Draco felt his face redden.

"Ma…" He sputtered, "I didn't think…"

"We see the games, we're quite aware." His father said, yet his face was unreadable, "It's…against the normal tradition, as you know." He said, and in that moment Draco's heart dropped, and he prepared a litany of reasons why they were wrong, but his father continued, "But she makes you happy, and I don't want to be the father that stands in the way of that because of something antiquated."

"Hell, if you win the games, honey, you could marry a muggle for all we care. I think you deserve that much." His mother added, and this garnered a small smile from Draco.

"She does make me happy." Was all he said on the topic of Hermione Granger. It was all that really needed to be said.

"And she saved your life." His father pointed out, noticing the scar curling up his shirt.

"She did."

"Perhaps we underestimated her in school." His mother said, looking at his father.

"But even she has changed, just like you have." His father said, looking Draco up and down, "You're hardly 17 and you're an adult. That is the truest tragedy of these games."

And Draco couldn't argue with him; he hadn't been a child since his name was called out. That part of him was lost, and that was indeed truly a painful revelation.

THEGREENGAMES

Hermione left Draco, smiling at his happiness to see Miriam again. But then she faltered, and her smile left, because Ron was gone. She kept forgetting, and when she remembered, his death washed over her all over again. It was a horrid feeling.

Lupin was waiting for her to escort her to where her parents would be meeting her. Vile rose in her throat, and she couldn't imagine seeing anyone right now, not after what had happened. It made her sick, knowing she'd have to face the Weasleys after her parents, and how could she face them? Look at all their faces, and tell them they'd lost another son, even if they already knew? Have to recount it all…she bit her fist before she reached the door. She didn't want to go in and see her parents while crying.

It took a bit to calm down, and she told herself no more tears for now. She'd cried so much already, it was time to be stronger than that.

She pushed open the door. Hannah had warned here there was going to be glass in between them, and she'd never hated the game makers more in that very moment.

Her parents were waiting for her.

"Oh, Hermione!" Her father said, and Hermione threw herself against the glass. Everything she'd said about not crying went right out the window, not after hearing her father's tone. It was so familiar, so comforting. She felt like a child coming to her parents after scraping her knee outside.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She said, using both her hands and trying to stop the tears.

"Why are you apologizing?" Her mother asked, coming down to her level.

"Because I wanted to be stronger than this for you." Hermione said.

"You've always been strong, pumpkin. The best thing you've done for us is stayed alive." Her father assured, and this only made Hermione sob harder. In the end, she found herself sitting, her side propped up against the glass and her parents on the floor with her, inches away, yet so far.

They had many questions. While the Weasleys were there to explain some things, most of the game they didn't understand, and felt stupid to have to ask every three seconds. Hermione answered their questions the best she could, always to the most succinct point, like she was answering a test question. That is, until a question caught her off guard.

"Were you in love with that boy, the one that died?"

"Ron?" She asked, lifting her head from the glass, frowning, "The one that just died?"

"No," Her father said, "The one that died for you."

Ah…Seamus. She pressed against the necklace of his she still had. She realized they knew nothing about what had happened underground, that all that bonding and everything wasn't seen at all.

"He was in love with you, that's for sure." Her mother said, and she bit her lip.

"I can't say. I time, I could have been. But…it was all a rush and it's hard to get a grip on your emotions while you're trying to stay alive. Everything is 10x more here, I mean, I won't ever truly know. I might be building it up to something when there wasn't anything at all." She said logically, but the words were hard to say.

"So that's about the same answer for that blonde boy, then." Her mother said. Ah, of course they'd seen that too.

"Yes." She agreed, realizing that she hadn't a time to sit down and think about how she felt for him, not without the looming threat of death. Not until now, "I don't know if I could figure anything out until after this is over." This was a revelation for her, honestly. On one hand she was so grateful for everything he'd done for her, but on the other…the adrenaline felt during the most difficult times of the games can very easily be mistaken for more. She would need time to figure herself out. But as she said it, something told her it wasn't right. There was a nagging sense of, well, certainty that she was finding it harder and harder to ignore. She shoved it down, but oh, she'd know it would be back up.

But she'd have time to figure that out after she talked as long as she wanted to with her mum and dad.

They talked for a long time longer, until Hermione began to yawn.

"We should let you sleep." They said, and bid her goodbye.

"Wait! Can you send the Weasley's in? I need to talk to them."

"About Ron." Her father surmised.

She nodded, "I was his best friend for years. I held him in my arms as he died. I…" The words clogged her throat, and she couldn't breathe nor say another word, but they understood.

"We'll send them in."

She prepared herself, pacing the room, until the door on the other side of the glass opened. She looked up to see Arthur, Molly, Ginny, Bill, and Fred trickling in. It struck her that the rest were dead, gone.

She broke down crying with one look at Mrs. Weasley's face, after they'd come so far out and watched him die inches from them, unable to do anything. It mirrored how she felt.

"I'm so sorry! If I'd been an inch closer to him, I could have stopped him and-,"

"Oh, Hermione." Arthur's voice was rough, "Our son knew exactly what he was doing. Even you couldn't have stopped him." He said.

"I could have helped him. I could have protected him." She argued, "I could have forced him inside quicker, Miriam could have saved him."

"Ron died heroically." Bill said, "It's a lot more than most can say about their children."

"It doesn't change the fact he never should have died." Hermione said, fury replacing her anger, "Neither should have Harry."

"No one in these games deserved this." Molly said, "But…" whatever she was going to say died on her lips.

Hermione could think of a thousand things she might have been about to say. She could think logically there were a thousand more she wouldn't have anticipated. She saw Mrs. Weasley struggle for the proper tone, the proper words, but lost at the end, and ended up merely sighing. Hermione understood the feeling of having so much to say but nothing at all at the same time. She understood the conflicted feelings that these games brought about, caught between the way they wanted her to think and an unpopular opinion.

"You must win now." Bill said, "Otherwise these games…I don't know, Hermione, I just don't know."

On one hand, she was pleased to have their support, but on the other, she hated she was the choice left now that their son was dead. She wished it wasn't like that. She wished they could choose her because they liked her, or choose their son because he was still alive. And this feeling felt selfish to her, which was an emotion currently she didn't think she should have the right to feel.

"He's with Harry." Hermione said, before she could stop herself, "I saw him…Harry. I don't believe for a second it was a mirage or a hallucination but it was he. I can't describe it, but know he's in good hands. There is a better place beyond all this."

"Stranger things have happened in the Wizarding World." Ginny was the first to reply, her voice hoarse and almost crying. Hermione knew she'd nursed a crush for Harry when they were young, and the choice to pursue it further, if ever, was snatched away from her. That was a horrible feeling, wondering what if. She didn't realize it would hurt Ginny so much to hear his name so long after his death, though.

"I believe you, Hermione." Fred said, putting a hand on both of his parent's shoulders, "That's comforting, isn't it?"

"Of course." Arthur nodded, "Even if it isn't true, just by logic, I mean, it's nice to hear."

Hermione forced a smile. If they never believed her, they never did, but she knew he would be happy wherever he was. Ginny, Fred, and Bill seemed at ease by her tone.

"We should let her get some rest. She can't win tired and hungry." Molly said, ushering them out.

"Wait!" Hermione said, and they all paused, "I'd like to speak to Fred…alone." She added, narrowing her eyes and tapping her foot. Fred winced, and Ginny raised an eyebrow at her brother, a questioning look toward Hermione as well. Hermione set her a look that explained later, if she made it out, she'd explain if Fred didn't.

In a short time, the ginger twin was the only one left in the room.

"I'm sorry I sent those brooms to just my brother. A second to do things, you know. I could only get two sent through and-,"

"You think that's why I'm mad?" Hermione reeled back, "I'd expect you to do that. That's your brother, Fred. If you sent them to me, well, people would wonder things."

Fred blushed a bit, but frowned. "Then what's that look about? I know you well enough to recognize a pissed Granger."

"This." Hermione said, fishing the vial from her bag that had killed Tracey and slammed it against the window, "I've been going over it in my head a thousand times, Fred. I'm decent at potions, but Draco? He's a freaking genius. That's the one class he can beat me at. There is no way, even distracted, he could have mixed it wrong."

She held Fred's gaze, frowning, "He's beating himself up about it, and it kills me. And I couldn't figure it out, you know? But I have a theory that's crazy enough, and well, it's the only thing that makes sense. This wasn't a potion that knocks people unconscious, was it? Draco did everything exactly right, and the potion did its job, didn't it?"

There was a tense moment, before Fred shrugged. It was so casual and unashamed it infuriated Hermione. "You always were too smart for anyone to pull the wool over your eyes."

"I don't understand, Fred. Why would you send us one thing, telling us it was another? Did you mess up something? A mistake?"

"Hardly." Fred sighed, and had the common sense to look a little ashamed, "Hermione, the end is coming. You can't see it, but I can. I've lived through it. Letting people live isn't something you can afford anymore. Would you have used it, if you knew what it was?"

"Of course not!" Hermione sputtered, furious he would even suggest that.

"And she would have killed you. Or Draco would have killed her some other way. Or she would have been knocked out and killed Colin another day or killed Ron later." Fred said, "Hate me. That's okay. But-,"

"No." Hermione balled her fists, cutting him off, "You don't to get to decide that, Fred! I had the right to know. There is always another option besides death. I know I'm better than that."

"Morals were abandoned the moment you offered yourself up. Moral people in the Green Games are dead people. These games are a whole different set of guidelines. Killing is encouraged, and after, you wouldn't be put away for Murder in Azkaban."

"It doesn't make it right!"

"It kept you alive, it kept Draco alive!" Fred said evenly, his coolness something Hermione was just as upset about as her inability to keep hers, "I am living with what I have done to stay alive but I will never regret sending you that. You're free to think of me what you now do, Hermione, but I told you I'd do what it took to keep you and Ron alive. I've failed Ron…you don't expect me to let you die without a fight, do you?"

"It still should have been my choice." Hermione said, her voice small and trembling.

"You nearly died. You chose to live. It comes with strings Hermione. If the price was too strong, if this defeats you, you're not the Hermione I knew. The Hermione that broke a thousand rules to brew a dangerous potion her second year. The Hermione that kept a woman changed into a bug in a jar against her will. The Hermione that cursed a girl's face for betraying the group with irreversible damage."

"Those…those were different." Hermione said, her voice faltering slightly.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He asked, chuckling, "You think on that, Hermione." He said, and started to open the door, "The rest are what I said they were. I didn't expect you to use that one first. Draco should recognize the components in the remaining ones if he's as good as you say he is, and will know they're actually what they're supposed to be."

Hermione watched the door click behind him; so angry she hadn't left first. Angry he had dared to insinuate she was a worse person than she believed herself to be, bringing up stupid things she'd done in her school years. Those things had been done for a greater purpose! They'd been done to keep Harry safe, to protect-

Protect herself…

As much as it was to protect Harry, it was to protect her too. Ron and Harry had nothing to fear from the basilisk. No one really believed Rita anyway, and it had mostly been because Rita had been spreading nasty rumors about her and Ron in the prophet. And Marietta had been for the good of the group, except Hermione had started that little ragtag group of fighters, so it had been to protect herself.

The world began to shift beneath Hermione's feet.

She opened the door, stumbling out. She saw a sliver of the gathered parents-her own and the families, all talking on the other side. She saw the Malfoys talking to her own parents and winced, wondering what on earth they could be discussing. The Weasleys were deep in their own world. Colin's parents looked relieved. She saw Hannah's whole family, and a twin brother of Hannah's looked right at her and waved. She waved back. In the corner was Mandy's parents, she recognized them from papers in the prophet-they were important Ministry Personal. They were both sullen and rigid, but not crying, but perhaps that was worse. Her eyes landed on a singular and broken woman with the same thick hair as Tracey, sobbing to herself. Hermione averted her gaze away from Mrs. Davis quickly. She saw one pair of parents looking lost, still looking out into the forest, almost hopeful-

She recognized the stubbed nose and the dark, silky hair. Those were Pansy's parents. It was a weird realization that spawns like her was a baby once, and had parents.

"I told them to stop looking. Pansy won't be coming." A voice behind her made her jump. She turned, and immediately put up her guard.

"Pike." She spat.

"Whoa there, kitty." He said, a grin that she didn't appreciate, "You think I'd go after you here? I'm not that stupid. Tomorrow is fair game, but tonight I'm here to relax just as much as you."

"Where's Parkinson? I was under the impression you were her lap dog." She asked unkindly.

"I don't really think that's any of your business." Pike said, gritting his teeth. Whatever had happened, Hermione wondered if had been a fight.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I told you, relaxing." Pike said, "And you know, family too. Oh, don't look so surprised, Granger. I have a family I love and that loves me."

"I didn't think psychopaths could love." She snorted, "Monster."

Pike opened his mouth, eyebrows furred. He was staring at her with a sense of awe, but in a way that she didn't like, "What did I ever do to you at Hogwarts. Other than our houses hating each other, what did I do to gain such a cruel term from you? Did you even know my name, before all this?"

She started to protest, but feel short when she realized she wasn't sure if she had.

"I was pretty much invisible. I never even called you a mudblood like other Slytherins because, hey, I'm one too. I'm pretty sure even your current beau has called you that little number. And yet, you still seem to like him an awful lot."

"That's a stupid argument. He was young and he's changed. You…I have plenty reason to hate you! I saw what you did to Lavender! You tortured her."

"No, no, no." Pike waved a finer, "You don't get to use the Green Games as your argument. If I did something at Hogwarts, fine, tell me, and I do sincerely apologize because I'm not the worst guy and I had no reason to hate you there. But here? Monster is a relative term here. " Hermione bit her lips, glaring daggers so hard at Pike she hoped he incinerated on the spot, "Fine, let's talk about how you chewed Blaise to bits or how you helped put together a device that drained Tracey-quite painfully and tortuously, may I add- of all the blood from her body. If I were a normal folk watching at home, I might be inclined to hate you more than me."

"You know not-,"

"Get off your high horse, Granger. You're no better than me; you're just pretentious and pretend to be. The sooner you realize it, the more even the game will be. If you stay up there, well, you know what they say- the higher you are, the harder you fall." He paused, frowning, "Perhaps I shouldn't have told you that. It would have been interesting to see you and your mythical self-righteous horse killed. But I do enjoy my matches to be even. Goodnight, Hermione. I hope you enjoy your relaxation." With that, he turned and walked toward the medical center, not even a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Hermione stood, angrier than she had before, but simultaneously just as confused about her own footing than she ever had been.

She hated Pike, mostly because an annoying voice told her he was right. She'd never wanted to bash his head in more, and that singular thought scared her.

She numbly found her bedroom, and opened the door and almost cried.

Her childhood bed sat in the room, all the blankets and pillows and stuffed animals arranged exactly the way she'd left them. She collapsed on the bed, drinking in the scent of home, and laid there contemplating everything Fred had said for a very long time. It wasn't everyday the entirety of one's morality was brought into question.

Soon, her stomach growled, and she thought it apt to explore the rest of the room. There was just a desk with a little chair, and a rug from her room in the main area. It wasn't very big, just fitting those couple items perfectly, but Hermione didn't really feel as though she needed much more.

There was a binder on the desk with a short list of food she could order. It wasn't an overly extravagant list, but rather simple things- a Hamburger, fish and chips, salad, soup, water, and pumpkin juice, and a coupe other bit and ends- but Hermione felt hungry enough to eat almost all of it. She ordered have the list.

She flicked on the light in the small bathroom. There was just a sink and a toilet, no mirror or bathtub. She slashed some water on her face, and used a bit of the hand soap to smear away some of the remaining grit, although she was sure only a power washer could clean her at this point.

On one hand, someone might think it not all that exciting that the room was so small and lacking. Surly, if someone wanted to pamper them and really give them something to want to strive for, they'd have brought it all in, wouldn't they? But after being in the wilderness for so long without any of these things, to even see a carpet again filled Hermione with glee.

It also reminded her that they weren't there quite yet. They hadn't won. They didn't get all the amenities that they would when they'd win, like a shower or nice sitting chairs or shampoo or any food they wanted. This was more of a taunt than a gift. So many things they longed for, and yet, so many other things they didn't have.

Some people had the adverse reaction to winning the games. Cedric had sold away most of his items, finding the clutter of materialism uncomfortable after he'd won. After surviving in a mud hut during his games, the thought of having so much excess of things unnerved him. He lived in a modest house with only what he needed, and his only pleasure was buying books. So for him, this little area would have been the perfect amount.

Hermione opened the desk drawer and sucked in hard. It was her wand.

She'd almost forgotten they had their wand back if they made it here. She touched it, and immediately, a sense of relief washed over her. She waved it around and did a couple spells, forgetting the ease of using it.

But not everything was exactly right, but right now, she couldn't place it.

Her food came soon after, and Hermione wolfed it down like a savage, a little disgusted at herself for eating so much. She regretted it after, feeling bloated and sick. She knew that often people overate their first days back, and then became sick after, but not having to eat a cooked and bland blue-bird was so temping.

She meant to go and talk to Hannah, but her eyes grew tired, and she fell asleep on her bed, her shoes still double knotted. Something about her bed made her feel so relaxed, and it was far too temping to not take advantage of the bed.

THEGREENGAMES

Outside, her dreams were non-existent. She went to sleep and woke up the next morning, tired, but nevertheless unhaunted. Here? The haunting wouldn't stop.

She saw every death she'd experienced repeated, starting from turning over Susan's husk of a body, to killing Blaise, to all the others, seeing Seamus mouth 'I love you', but finally what woke her was the earsplitting scream Tracey made as the blood filled over Hermione's vision.

She shot upward to sit on her bed, sweating hard, her hands thrown toward the door in a protective motion. The room was quiet, nothing at all moved. She remembered she was safe her.

It was a belated moment later, only after her wand rolled toward her on the mattress, that she realized it wasn't even her instinct anymore to grab for it.

Most kids grew close with their wands. It was an extension of themselves, so why wouldn't they? Even from the first couple weeks of their first year, young witches and wizards felt safer with the wand within distance, even if there wasn't any danger at all. It was similar to the feeling of detaching a hand and having it other places…you'd want it with you. Most kids put their wands on their nightstands, less than an arm's length away. Some made little wand holsters that hung from the rafters of the bed or the mattress, so that if their fingers brushed near the floor, they could feel it.

Hermione, during the tumultuous times of war, grew used to sleeping with it under her pillow, her fingers always touching it. She became a light sleeper and was ready to stupefy anything that came into her room, and more than once accidently hexed her roommates while they were going to the bathroom. It was excessive, but it was also needed.

Now, though, as she turned her wand over in her hand, she realized that it wasn't just that she was unused to having it near her, but more…she wasn't even sure she needed it anymore. Yes it was so easy to use, but using her own hand for magic was so much more…pure. It was as though using magic through a wand was squeezing ketchup from a bottle, but using her hands was squeezing water. Something about it flowed easier. Now that she knew the basics, and was pretty good, was it even necessary?

She frowned, unsure it was. Perhaps in times like this, that her left hand was mangled, or in times she was hurt, but overall, she felt a detachment from her wand and a detachment from this entire life that had her old bedroom as well. Stubbornly, she shoved the wand into her pants, unable to accept in this moment that to be a truth. She had already had one aspect of her life thrown up into the air, and she wasn't about to lose this one tonight too.

But, as it happened, she couldn't sleep after this. Maybe her body was just used to two or three hours. Maybe she was thinking far too much. Whatever the case, she knew she wasn't going to get any shuteye right now.

She went to her door, and found it unlocked. They weren't prisoners here, but she was still a bit surprised.

She was pulled to a certain door. She dragged her feet toward it, not sure why, but it called to her. She opened it, without really thinking, and pushed it open.

Draco turned; awake in his own bed, frowning at her entrance.

"Hermione?"

"I…" She trailed off, having nothing to say to explain why she was here.

"You don't need to explain." He said, "I'm surprised you came here." He said, "I thought you might go to Hannah. She knew Weas-I mean, Ron, better than I would have."

In that moment, she was surprised she didn't go to Hannah. Hannah had indeed been her confidant before the games, and she still trusted the girl just as much. Then again, it's not like she had chose to find Draco's door. She contemplated it could have been anyone's-like Pike's-and that could have been bad.

"Can I come in?" She asked in a small voice.

"Yeah. Hey, did you really see Harry today? You said his name." He asked. Hermione thought back to the moment she had relived over and over in her dream.

"You didn't see him? You stopped Colin, I thought…" The words died on her lips.

"If I were to see any dead spirits, I don't think Potter would be the one waving at me with friendship." He said, which was true, then he frowned, "No, I mean, I stopped Colin because Ron was dead by that point."

"I had a whole conversation with him…Harry, that is." Hermione murmured, "The canon-,"

"Was a little off, but not by long. Do you think for a moment, perhaps, you existed between the worlds where time didn't exist?"

Hermione nodded, thinking of the train station. It was entirely possible. This sort of theoretical discussion calmed her; it was logical and followed a path and didn't have any sorts of surprises. It was like doing math; something constant, unmoving, reliable.

"It was odd. I blinked, and suddenly there was a handprint. I suppose, well, Harry bent the rules a little, huh?" He asked, and she was surprised he wasn't calling her crazy, but seemingly taking Hermione's beliefs in stride.

"He loved Ron more than anyone; he was his family. And he broke the rules for me too." Unconsciously she touched where the knife had twisted her insides around, "Otherwise nothing you could have done would have brought me back."

"Never thought I'd be thanking Potter." Draco chuckled, "If you ever see him again, tell him I do thank him."

"I…I don't think I'll be seeing him again." She whispered painfully.

"What? Now that Ron's not around you're not good enough?" She almost laughed; he was offended for her at a literal ghost.

"No, I," She laughed a bit, thinking back to that last bittersweet moment, "It's just a feeling. Maybe it's good. Maybe it means I'll survive because I'm sure if I died, I'd see him again."

"Oh, good, then." Draco relaxed and Hermione realized she was still standing in the threshold of the door. She realized he was sitting on his bed, and the thought made her a little tired.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" He asked.

She paused, looking at Draco's bed. It was ostentatious and utterly ridiculous. It was at least a Queen's sized bed, and everything was a black and silky sheet. The pillow cases itself probably cost more than her parents made in a week. There was just so much of it too. It seemed to swallow him in the inky blackness of the softest bedding she'd ever touched. It was funny to her, and she couldn't stop laughing once she started. But, as it happened, the laughing turned to crying and, Merlin, she was such a mess.

"I'm just so…" She flexed her fingers, making a face, and shaking her head.

"Understatement of the century." Draco scoffed a bit, "Are you doing fine, though?" She wondered what he was referring to. There could be so many things. Ron's death. Tracy's death. Saying goodbye to Harry. The list continued on and on. She tackled the most painful one first.

"No." She answered honestly, "Ron was my best friend. Even if we hadn't talked like that in years, you can't just stop caring for someone. You can't turn off love."

"Yeah," He sighed, agreeing. She wondered if, briefly, he was thinking about Blaise.

"You know? All my life, after Harry died, I would pray every night. I said I would give anything to get five more minutes with him. I loved him. He was my brother; I really do feel like that. I just never thought that 'anything' would be playing in the Green Games."

"Would you retract it, then?" Draco asked, tilting his head, "If you knew that's what it would have taken?"

She thought about it, she really thought about it. It was temping to say yes. Despite that, "No. I'm glad I know what I do know. That I could talk to him. And, I'm still alive. Even If I hadn't been here, all those that would have died likely would have. At least being here, I know I tried to save them."

"Spoken like a Gryffindor."

Hermione couldn't even express in that moment, with her identity on the line, how grateful she was to hear him place her. Because, well, she didn't feel like a Gryffindor lately, not after what Pike and Fred had said. He didn't even know the massiveness of his statement, and that was part of the beauty of it. It was what caused her to be a little courageous, like Gryffindors.

She pulled up the covers, and hopped in the bed. Draco's eyes widened.

"What are you doing?"

She wondered if she'd overstepped in that moment, and was unsure of herself. "Sorry, I didn't know if…maybe I should leave."

"No." Draco grabbed her wrist, "I was just…surprised. That's all. I didn't think you…nah, I mean, I'm just going to stop talking now." He said.

Hermione turned toward him, studying his face. His pale gray eyes, the curve of his jawbone up into his cheekbones. His platinum blonde hair and up this close, she saw a galaxy of light freckles across his face, a feature she would have never seen had she stayed a safe distance away.

He seemed to be studying her too, but for a much different reason. It was as though he expected the world to swallow her up in that moment, and he was going to lose her forever. The general hopelessness of his stare, the question that he didn't dare to ask her, because he feared the answer, thinking he knew it already…it broke her heart, and the very thought that it would break her heart made a few things clear up right then.

Hermione reached out, pulling his face gently toward hers and kissed him. It wouldn't go down in history as one of the steamiest or hottest kisses, nor for the most unwanted, because a moment later, Draco came over his shock and she felt his fingers tentatively wrap in her hair.

It would, however, give every other kiss a run for its money in the passion category. It wasn't sexual passion, but it was a passion that felt like fate, and meaning, and life. It was the sort of kiss shared between two people that were bound to find each other, in one life or another, and even though Hermione was a witch and magic was sometimes a mundane term, there was nothing more to describe the kiss other than simply magical, but in the most breathless of senses.

She pulled back, and Draco was looking at her like she was going to leave even more now.

"What was that?" He asked, and he still looked scared. Maybe he thought it was a pity kiss. Hermione knew she should set things straight, or, the best she could.

"Hope." She said softly, running her fingers over his shoulders, "Or, I should say, a promise of sorts."

She understood this explained nothing, and she steadied herself for what had been forming in her head for a while now. She felt scared too, admitting these things to him, for reasons she wasn't sure. Just like him, she felt like she might lose him.

"I'm so broken, Draco. I don't know if I'll be ready to love anything for a long time. I've killed and I'm not the person anymore I thought I am, and I know I couldn't ask for anything now the way I am, because I'd self-destruct. I need to heal, to mend. And I know you say you love me know, but when you win there will be thousands of girls throwing themselves at you, and I couldn't even hold it against you if you found someone less broken and moved on because maybe that's what you deserve. And it will be a long time before I ready to love you really how I want to…but, if you'd have me and wait, I would really like to get to know the you I've seen here in the arena, all of you, and one day…faraway as it seems now, accept the pull we feel toward each other. Perhaps soul mates do exist, because despite everything, I am brought to you. I didn't kiss you to taunt you, but to show you my sincerity about what I've said. I'd be lying if I pretended as though I didn't feel like I do love you already, and that's one thing that's so static in my life I want to hold onto that. But today, tomorrow, the next day, I couldn't be ready. Maybe you could…wait for me? I realize that's much to ask."

"Oh, Hermione." Draco breathed close to her, bringing himself so close that their foreheads touched, "I don't want any of those girls that will throw themselves at me. I want you. That won't change. I can wait. I'd wait until you were 90 if it meant getting to love you for the remainder of my life. I'm broken too. If you'd let me, we might be able to fix ourselves together?"

Hermione nodded, and hugged Draco, pulling himself into his embrace. "One day, I'd like to be with you. When we're both mended and fixed, even if it's fifty years from now, but I don't think there could ever be anyone else." She whispered this against his ear, and she felt him shudder in her embrace.

The games threw many things into the air for her. It made a lot unclear. At the same time, it made things very clear. Draco was one of those things. She had a feeling that even if these games would have never happened, she'd still find him, and he'd find her, eventually. She couldn't even describe it, but Hermione knew without a doubt that one day she was meant to end up with him. She also knew that day wasn't today, not formally, and that holding each other as they drifted off to sleep was enough for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST DRAMIONE KISS! And basically, her sort of admission of love. But it's complicated, such as everything is and will be in this Au-verse. Because realistically, I don't think Hermione would be ready to spring into another relationship, especially one she thinks so highly of. She wants to be her absolute best and most put together when she does end up with Draco, and I think he understands that and will let her have her pride, because he's the type of guy that understands pride better than anyone.
> 
> As for Hannah and her arm, I always thought it was a little unrealistic about how all these people won the Green Games and like were perfectly put together? Like, everyone somehow kept all their limbs? Maybe like two scars but not a ton? That always seemed far-fetched, and it just goes to show how strong Hannah truly is! She made it back first WITH ONLY ONE ARM. Like seriously, how badass is that?
> 
> And also, what did you think of Hermione's other revelations, or food for thought-coming from two people; one person whose opinion she deeply cares about and the other from a guy she thought she had good reason to hate? What are your thoughts on it?
> 
> I think I've given y'all ample enough to review upon. I can't promise you if I get ten I'll have a new chapter up that day (I still need to write the new one) but I hope you all review anyway because you're good people.
> 
> ALIVE LIST (With bloodtypes after)
> 
> HUFFLEPUFF: Hannah (HB)
> 
> SLYTHERIN: Draco (PB), Pike (MB), Pansy (HB)
> 
> GRYFFINDOR: Colin (MB), Hermione (MB)


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, so obviously I realize I've been gone a ridiculously long time. It's hard to explain why. A fellow author might understand. I've just been thinking and planning that Dramione moment for eons and actually getting to it is so weird and then after I just had like no immediate plans for the story. I decided to just take a break. Coincidentally, I found time to write now, which is strange since I'm actually studying abroad...in Italy XD But hey! Inspiration strikes you at strange times, amiright?

When Hermione woke up, she let herself stay silent and perfect still for just a few moments. She was acutely aware of exactly where she was, and she could feel Draco's arms encompassing, her own nose nestled into his chest. There was just no noise, a happy change from the forest, in which she could always hear something stalking through the trees, but the safe house set up blocked out all the ruckus.

She didn't know how much time they still had in this safety bubble, but she wasn't going to ruin it by waking him up. She wasn't tired herself, though, yet she was perfectly happy to stay here in silence forever. She'd been repeating everything that had happened last night over and over again in her mind, from the good to the bad. Their kiss, that in particular, she came back to often. She couldn't have imagined even a year ago that if someone told her she'd be cozying up next to Draco she wouldn't be inclined to send them to St. Mungo's. If someone had told her any of what had occurred here in the Games, she wasn't sure if she'd laugh or cry, if she chose to take anything they'd said with a grain of salt.

The games had made fools of everyone, so it seemed.

She frowned, sighing as she played with the soft fabric of Draco's sheets. She was so stupid to truly believe nothing about her would change if she went through this, to think she could rise above it. Harry had stayed Harry, and it had gotten him killed. Same with Ron and Luna and countless others. She understood why Slytherins often ha the upper hand close to the end of the game.

"You have to compartmentalize." Draco's low voice surprised her, and she looked up to see him blinking down at her, "You, ah, said that last part out loud. It's easy enough to imagine what you're thinking about."

"What?" She asked, frowning at him.

"Compartmentalize. It's something we, as Slytherins, are taught…either by someone doing it for us, or by way or nature. Create boxes in your mind, and once the day is done, some things are never to be touched again. You can't really believe every Slytherin is a monster, eh?" He asked, "We just get too good at separating ourselves from what we've done."

"I don't believe all of you are monsters," She ran her fingers down his chest, feeling the rise and fall when he breathed, "Otherwise I wouldn't be here. And people like…Daphne, or Blaise. They weren't totally awful people, just victims of circumstance. My house did have Peter Pettigrew, who, may I remind you, would be burning in the 9th circle of Hell if Dante's Inferno has any truth to it." She scoffed, "Are you going to compartmentalize me, and us?"

"That's tough." Draco rolled off his back onto his stomach, staring at the ceiling, "Logic would say yes, but I'm not sure I necessarily want to. If I were smart, I would until we've both won, but I'm far too deep in to even be able to." He smirked, dragging her close to him.

"That's a relief." Hermione sighed, "I don't…I still stand by what I said last night, but I need you…a companion, to win." She said, "Not because Pansy is powerful, no doubt she is, but because I can't think of a world where we go out there without each other."

"Me neither." He agreed after a moment, "That's what's truly terrifying."

"What time to you reckon it is?" She asked, peering out the window. It was fully light, but she couldn't see the position of the sun. Her stomach grumbled.

"Breakfast?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, "Think they'll have toast and jam? It's silly, but I've been craving that like nobody's business!" He laughed, "Although, when we win, the first thing I'm eating is a whole bag of chips. Maybe two. What about you?" He asked as they rolled off the bed. Hermione brushed down her game sanctioned outfit, inwardly groaning at how disgusting it felt and how much she wished they'd given her a change of clothes, but licked her lips.

"I haven't even thought that far." She hummed, "I think…watermelon."

"Really? Anything in the world, and you chose a fruit? That is so predictably Hermione."

"I like fruit! It's great!" Hermione defended herself, "And I don't have to worry about maliciously charged fruit." She said, cringing as she recalled the berries she'd had in the arena, "I just want a fruit with zero ulterior motive, is that too much to ask?"

"Hell, when you put it like that." Draco chewed on her thoughts, "I guess it's reasonable."

When the appeared in an area they hadn't explored before, they saw plates of breakfast food waiting for them. Colin and Hannah were already eating, and waved them over with excitement when they had piled up their trays.

"Where else do you think we were going to sit?" Draco rolled his eyes at Colin's exuberance, "Over with Mr. Invisible over there?"

"Your burns don't look half bad today," Hermione said, steering the conversation away from Draco's grumpiness, and truly Colin's wounds didn't look half as bad as they had yesterday.

"There was just a lot of grime on them." Colin said, rubbing a place on his wrist that was going to scar for sure, "I'm supposed to keep them clean so they don't get infected, but that seems like a lot to ask going into this thing again."

Draco mumbled his agreement, but mostly because his mouth was stuffed with scrambled eggs. Hermione looked at her own burns and bit her lip. It was going to be difficult to keep outside problems away from this…

"And you, Hannah, look like you went through a meat grinder." Draco said when he swallowed. Hannah took little offence to his words, since it was partially true with white bandages covering nearly her whole body, but instead waved his comment away with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Freaking merpeope, okay?" And then she gave a sly grin, "They say that girls find scars sexy, but I think Cedric would agree that it works the other way too."

Draco made a barfing noise at the back of his throat. Hermione looked at Hannah with bright eyes.

"Did you get to see him?"

Hannah nodded, all shyness gone, "It was nice, you know? Reminded me why I want to win."

There was a sound of feet on the wood, and Hermione turned to see Pike come into the food area. He seemed pretty happy to be off by himself, and Hermione would be fine to leave him there, but Colin waved him over.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hannah hissed.

"Well, he looks lonely." Colin said, frowning.

"Have you forgotten that he tortured you nearly to death?" Draco reminded him with a tone like steel, and Colin titled his head, and perhaps he really had forgot. Hermione's eyes widened, since she hadn't known about this.

"Oh yeah…well, live and forgive and all. Will it kill us to be nice to him?"

"Yes!" Draco and Hermione agreed in unison, but everyone shut up when Pike sat next to them.

"Morning." He said, nodding at the group, and began eating as though this was a totally normal occurrence. Hermione seethed in her seat, glaring at him as she recalled their conversation the previous night. The gall of that boy! How dare he?

"Hermione?" Draco whispered in her ear, "You're sort of melting the tray…" She looked down, startling back. She had been so intently staring at Pike, hoping to melt him on the spot, that her magical hand had manifested just that…but of course since it still wasn't perfectly healed, it was faulty and indeed the plastic tray had begun to wilt under her pressure.

"Bugger." She murmured, getting up to throw her tray away regardless, since her appetite had considerably diminished since Pike had come into the eating area. She saw in her peripheral view Colin and Hannah give each other confused shrugs, and realized Draco trailed behind her.

"You want to tell me what the hell is eating at you? Sure, no one likes Pike, but he hadn't done a whole lot to you." Draco said, which mirrored Pike's words a little too closely for her comfort. She spun, irrationally angry.

"What does it matter? Can you change anything, Draco? I know you can heal, but you can't fix this!" She said, and immediately regretted it, "Merlin…I just…" She rubbed her eyelids.

"If you told me, you'd be surprised about what I could and couldn't fix." Draco said, dryness to his voice.

"I'm just questioning things." Hermione said, sitting down back on her own bed in the room she'd hardly spent the night in. Draco was looking around, and grinning stupidly at the array of stuffed animals on her bed.

"Sorry," He said when he saw her face, "What sorts of things?" He sat down beside her. Tears in her eyes, she regaled both the conversations she'd had with Fred and Pike, and her admittance that maybe they were more correct than she'd like to think.

"Well, that makes the Preferred Weasley go down a few rungs." Draco sighed, "And he had such promise…"

"That's all you have to say?" Hermione said, feeling her anger flare up again.

"I don't know what you want me to say?" Draco scratched the back of his neck, "Other than you're ridiculous if you think either of them is right. But Merlin knows that you can't be convinced of that until you figure it out yourself."

"What if they're right, though?"

"See?" Draco threw up his hands, but he was grinning, "Bloody impossible to convince Hermione Granger of something she doesn't want to hear."

"I want to hear I'm a good person, what are you talking about?" She frowned.

"You actually want to hear that you're a shit person, because you feel guilty about Ron. If you're a shitty person that's easier to deal with since you somehow feel responsible for his death." He said.

"But I-,"

"He was a grown man, he made his own choices." Draco interrupted her, "And if you're a good person, really, then you can't hold onto your Gryffindor delusions that you could have saved someone or whatever. But yeah, the game changes you. That much is true. It doesn't have to be in a bad sort, but you did die…and you are with me, in whatever form it is." He said, nudging her softly.

It was true. Pre-Game Hermione might have never looked more than once at Draco, unless it was with annoyance or loathing. Even if he was as nice as he was in the arena, she would have chalked it up to him wanting something from her, something that wasn't' her heart. And she had died, and that does make someone look at things differently. It was what was a driving force between giving him a chance, she supposed. And she, in all, was glad she had.

And yet…

"But I wanted to kill him after he talked to me." Hermione clenched her fists; "I literally imagined how satisfying it would be to smash him up against the nearest wall, repeatedly." She shuddered at her own imagination.

"Everyone feels the urge around Pike, hardly concerning." Draco dismissed him, "Look, we all make choices. These games are a shitty circumstance, and a lot of times it could compromise a person's honor. There are some choices that aren't good ones either way, and we can't blame ourselves for those. But everyone has a choice to go about things the most humane way, or to go about them the bad way. Pike made the choice to torture Lavender to the point she was mutilated. You made a choice to eat those berries, but had you known, I don't think you would have. You also made the choice to not kill Corner. It goes for the bomb in a similar way. We can't…" He swallowed, seeming to be coming to a personal revelation of his own, "We can't blame ourselves for things we didn't know, when we both know we would have acted differently."

Hermione was silent, swinging her feet against the bed frame, "Maybe your right. I think I'm just far too tired to really be thinking about anything this big right now. I guess I'll figure it out after we win." She told herself, "Compartmentalize it, right?"

Draco was looking at her dubiously, "Right…just…don't do it too far back. It can be dangerous for people who haven't used the method before, and are burring something this deep. Be careful, all right? For the moment, for me, convince yourself that you're still a good person. Even if you decide you aren't later, for now, tell yourself that."

"Okay…" Hermione agreed reluctantly.

"Say it out loud, Hermione." She gave him a long groan, rolling her eyes.

"I'm a good person." She repeated with a tinge of sarcasm. He grumbled.

"Not great, but keep saying it, and that'll do."

Despite not figuring much at all out, Hermione felt better. Even if Draco was right (and he was rather intelligent) she couldn't come to those conclusions so quickly herself. She wouldn't be Hermione Granger if she didn't analyze ever moment and then make a pro/con list and then decide. But she didn't have the luxury of time for that, so she took everything that Pike and Fred had said, coupled with her most unpleasant memory of Tracy's screams and Blaise's blood, and imagined squashing them into a chest and locking it tightly away. Even if she wasn't sure it would work, the mental imagery made her feel a thousand times lighter.

She understood Draco's concerns, though. She could see how if someone did this too often, it would leave him or her desensitized from everything, no emotion at all. She didn't want to become that, and she did strongly believe that facing one's own demons were important to heal. She just couldn't deal with them right now. If she survived, she'd get herself the best therapist money could buy from her winnings and deal with what she'd done as a normal human being.

She wondered, briefly, looking at Draco if he knew far too many people who had tried to compartmentalize what they'd done and ended up robots because of it? Perhaps it was his parents…perhaps it was a friend…when you sided with Lord Voldemort, unless you were mad, you couldn't be one-hundred percent okay with his methods and still stay sane, right?

She brushed it away.

"Hey," She nudged his leg with her own, "In the time left, let's just not focus on the games, alright? I think I spied Monopoly in my room."

Draco gave her a quizzical look, "I don't think I've ever heard of that."

"It's a muggle game. C'mon, I'll teach you."

THEGREENGAMES

As soon as Hermione left, and Draco followed with a worried look, Hannah spun on Pike.

"What did you do?" She demanded, and Pike paused mid-bite of his oatmeal.

"I just shed some uncomfortable truths to her last night. It's not my fault if she's having couple coping." He said, shrugging and returning to his meal, "So, Colin, is it true that Gryffindors have hot tubs in your dorms?"

"What? Is that the rumor that goes around? People are crazy." Colin shook his head, "No, sadly."

"Stop it, Colin! He's just distracting you from the fact that he upset Hermione." She said angrily, and Colin winced.

"Actually, I'm just being friendly. He did invite me over here." Pike pointed out, and Colin shrunk a little, hating conflict. It was hard to see Pike as the murderous psychopath that had tortured his original partner in the games when he'd acted so cheerfully sociable with him just now, as though they were friends for a long time.

"What did you say to Hermione?" Hannah insisted, cutting off Colin's line of sight from him.

"Why do you care so much, Abbot?"

"Because she's my friend?" Hannah said, "And even if she weren't, we'd have a common enemy in you."

"I think you're mistaking me for Pansy." Pike said carefully, "I haven't done much at all to you. Have we even run into each other in the games yet?" He asked, squinting, attempting to recall.

"It's possible to hate more than one person, you know." Hannah said, her nose scrunching in anger.

"I don't think I recall you being so feisty back at school." His chuckle just made her flare up even more, a redness tinting her face from frustration and anger.

"And I don't recall you at all!" She said, "But what I do know is that I have more good qualities in my singular remaining arm than you do in your entire body." She said, forcefully shoving her nub closer to his face than her good arm. His eyes traveled her, as though seeing her disability for the first time.

"Well, the games have done a number on you, haven't they?" He said softly, almost apologetically, which was easy enough to mistake him for a person that actually cared. And maybe he did feel bad that she'd lost an arm to this godforsaken place, or perhaps he was upset it wasn't him that had done it, "What took it off?"

"More like who." Colin spoke up when Hannah went tense, speaking for her, "Blaise and Corner…"

Pike frowned, staring at her arm again, and his eyes zeroed in on the slight hints of harsh scars that peeked from underneath her shirt. In one life, perhaps Hannah would have shyed away from his calculating gaze, but now she only met it with a fury of a thousand storms and juts her chin out.

"It's a miracle you survived." Pike said, standing and nodded to her, "Perhaps next time you won't be so lucky."

"Is that a threat, Webber?" Hannah yelled after him, and Colin tried to hold her down before she tackled him. Pike turned at the threshold of the door, a smirk on his face.

"No, merely an observation of fate." He said, before disappearing. Hannah watched with an open jaw, before glaring reproachfully at Colin.

"You just had to invite him to sit with us…" She hissed, clunking back down and seething in her seat. Colin, to his credit, looked properly embarrassed and was running his fingers through his hair.

"Well shit, I didn't think it would be like that."

Hannah gave a sigh, cooling down. "You're right. No one could have. But honestly, did he even go to our school? I can't recall him at all."

"He was in my Astronomy! No…maybe it was Charms?" Colin frowned in thought, "He was quiet, not mean but not friendly, you know? I hardly recall him at all too. Yeah he's a Slytherin, but I wouldn't have pegged him to be like this in the games."

Hannah looked at her remaining breakfast and grabbed her able, studying where he'd left with curiosity, "I wonder what it takes to make someone snap like that…or maybe he always was like that. If the games had come up, would we have ever known what he was capable of?"

Colin seemed bored with the conversation, and was making shapes in his jello. "Beats me."

THEGREENGAMES

The time was called for the contestants to return to the Green Games all too soon. It had been nice to play Monopoly with Draco for about two hours and just pretend that they were back home and in a couple hours they would be going to eat at a restaurant or see a movie instead of being forced back into these awful games. She could almost forget it all.

Draco really got into it, and was in fact winning despite never having played before, and very loudly expressed his frustrations that Hermione had picked a game that she knew couldn't be won in the pitiful time they had left. She, to make him happy, declared him the winner by all means since they couldn't very well pick it up where they left off later. This seemed to brighten him. Hermione was fairly confident she could have pulled off a win in the end, but she could always challenge him to a rematch when they won.

They came to the area where they'd come in, and saw Lupin waiting from them with a grim look. He looked particularly sad about seeing Hermione go, and she was the only link left to Harry he truly had now that Ron was gone. Plus, he could never forget her kindness to him during his small stint as a Hogwarts teacher.

"We're obviously not just going to shove you out and let you battle it out from there," Lupin said, "In about ten minutes you will get portkeys to take you to your starting place. Right now, our healers will give you one last check over before you go, and give some last minute medical help if need be. I wish you all the best of luck."

Hermione felt that he truly meant that, even in regards to Draco, and maybe even Pike. It was easy to forget that even though he was pretty much mad, he wasn't even a legal adult in the Wizarding World and children should not be forced to do this.

They each took turns going into the medical wing, and Hermione was the second to last person to be taken in. It was the doctor that had taught Draco everything he knew, and she felt at ease with the woman at once.

As the woman tended to her wounds, she spoke, "I was mighty impressed with the whole soul thing, you know. I don't think I expressed that last night. Have you ever thought of becoming a healer, Miss Granger?"

"Oh, I don't know." Hermione frowned, "I suppose I never thought much about it. I just figured I'd fall into something after Hogwarts. I think I could be happy anywhere. But after these games, I'm not sure I could stomach being a healer."

"That's understandable. Just thought I'd ask."

"And besides, that's Draco's thing. I don't want to take it away from him. He likes you a lot. He knew you'd like the whole soul theory and all." Hermione said, smiling at Miriam.

"It's enough to write three new papers on, with what you did! The academic value of this is priceless! It could give healers curious about it enough steam and reason to be granted money to study it, instead of just going to the Ministry with mere theory. You've done the entire medical world a service, even if it was under the circumstances it was." Her excitement toward such a studious thing was something Hermione could see reflected in herself, and felt as though she understood her teacher. Perhaps Draco liked her so much because Miriam wasn't too far off the mark from Hermione.

"You dabble in theories of things, then, right?" Hermione asked hesitantly, surprised she was even coming forth with this.

"Yes, all kinds. Why?"

"Well…" Hermione frowned, "I experienced and odd thing when I…died. I saw something."

Miriam was rapt with attention, "Do tell, dear!"

"It was a white space. It almost looked like a train station; although that just might be my own interpretation. But I could see my memories, and I saw Harry. And I've seen him before, outside of this time in the games. It's all so real and I'm pretty sure I don't doubt that it all happened, or at least some of it, but my logical side of my mind…it's having a harder time." Hermione sighed, relishing in the memory of hugging Harry. The smell of his skin and the tickle of his perpetually unkempt hair would forever be plastered in her brain, and quite happily so.

"It's a curious thing, death." Miriam said quietly, nodding, "I don't think you mad or unhinged at all, which is very well what you might be assuming." She said, and Hermione bit her lip. Miriam seemed to ruminate deeply on it.

"I think…" She started, and Hermione tuned in, "I think there are moments that transcend our mortal understandings. Moments of unexplained times that are absolutely true in every sense, that are hard to fit together with what we know of logic and laws of nature. Yet here we are, wizards, magical beings that many a muggle would say are impossible. So yes, there must be things that we as wizards cannot understand but might have experienced."

"So it was indeed real." Hermione whispered, a sense of relief washing over her. Not that she'd doubted it, but she did realize how odd it might sound to a causal bystander that this all had happened.

"If you experienced it, if you could smell him and feel him and see him…then who's to say it was not real? Some might wave it off as a dream, but even if it were, why couldn't it have also been a moment of realities blurred and dreams realized? Just because it may have happened in a dream setting does not mark it as a fantasy." Miriam said.

"If you survive this, I would love to sit with you and discuss further theories of life and death, m'dear. You seem like a very interesting person." Miriam finished, noticing that it was nearly time for them to go. Hermione nodded most enthusiastically.

"I would like nothing more! I feel even if I don't become a healer there's much I can learn from you." She said honestly.

"Good." Miriam said with a grin, "Now, go out there and win with Draco. I expect both of you over to dinner when this is all over. And," Miriam added as Hermione was leaving, "You make a smashing couple."

Pike was coming in, so Hermione had no time to say much else, but she carried a lover's blush around on her face for a long time after.

There was little time after Miriam's check ups, just enough for the group to gather together in a solemn circle.

"Before we go out there, because who the hell will know what is gunna happen…" Hannah rocked nervously on her feet, "Here. I wrote this for you." She said, handing out an envelope to Hermione. She looked at Draco, "I don't know you all to well, so, no offence. I gave Colin's his already."

"What is this?" Hermione's voice was raw.

"If I die, then you'll know. If I don't…then I'll be able to tell you it in person instead of a lousy letter."

"Don't…speak like that." Hermione shook her head angrily, "Don't you dare, not after I just got you back!"

"It's reasonable to assume what's going to happen now," Colin's voice answered for her, "There's only six of us left. They won't want to elongate this any more than they have to. There's not much time left to this game. I wrote some for all of you too, after Hannah gave me the letter last night I was inspired." He handed out his as, but this time to Hannah, Hermione, and Draco.

Draco looked down at the letter with an unreadable expression, but his hands gripped it tightly.

"I wish I could have done the same for all you!" Hermione said, aghast, "I mean…I just…I want you to know how much you mean to me." She met their eyes, "All of you."

"No time for this now, and besides, we already know." Hannah said, stopping Hermione, "We do this together, eh? Until the end. No matter what."

"No matter what." Draco said first, which came as a shock to Hermione, and her own voice echoed with Colin a moment later.

"It's time…" Lupin coughed behind them, interrupting the moment.

He ushered them, along with Pike, outside to where there were six glowing balls sitting in the grass.

"On my mark, grab them. They'll send you to your starting place. We can't very well have you around with this thing still here." There was a hint of mirth in Lupin's statement. Hermione felt Draco bump shoulders with her as they took their places. His gray eyes met hers, and for a moment they just in their miniature bubble.

"Go!" The bell rang, and Hermione reached forward to touch the orb directly in front of her, and she was promptly whisked away.

She woke up on the forest floor, with the birds chirping above her. She immediately scrambled to a sitting position, swinging around, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

"Hannah? Draco? Colin?" She called out, but saw no one around her. Frustration growled in her throat, as she realized none of her friends had landed with her. She doubted that it was on accident either.

She blinked a couple times, but the forest around her was foreign. She saw a couple scuffs in the dirt and a little charred pile of sticks and realized that someone was here once, but since there was only six people left, they were probably dead at this point. She felt sick as she stared at the remnants of someone's life before her, so much worse than seeing a body because she was staring at their life that didn't exist anymore. She wondered who it had been?

There was a rustle in the bushes behind her. She drew her knife from her sheath quickly, and was quite glad she did as the last person she wanted to see came out from the foliage.

"Oh, bloody hell." Pike grunted, "Stuck me with you, I guess? Suppose it would be unfair to have your traitorous lover or puppy-eyed friends." He sneered.

"You'd better walk the other direction right now, Pike." Hermione said, keeping her knife raised and her eyes on his.

"Do you know where we are?" He asked, ignoring her threat. Hermione didn't drop her knife, but her hard glare faltered just a bit.

"No. I don't." She replied sourly, "Do you?"

"If I were asking you, don't you think I might not know either?" He questioned, "Smartest witch of our age my arse…"

"What are you playing at, Pike? Why are you sticking around? I could kill you at any time, you know? Even if you do have that bow and arrow with you." She said while motioning to the bow slung across his back.

Pike raised an eyebrow, and deliberately took off the bow from his shoulders and threw it a couple feet away from him. He did the same with his quiver.

Hermione balked. "You have a death wish?" She asked incredulously. Unless he had some unknown wandless magic somewhere up his sleeve, she didn't recall him having any other weapons when he was logged into the safe zone.

"I'm giving you your open shot. Kill me, Granger. Stab it right through my heart. I won't even move." He said, standing perfectly still.

"What the heck?" Hermione frowned, but didn't drop her defensive position either, "I'm…you're…"

"You see?" Pike laughed, picking back up his things, "I knew you couldn't do it. Don't have it in you, apparently, unless you're high on berries. I know I'm safe around you." He said, which was a stinging blow. She lowered her dagger. As much as she wanted to shove it right through his chest right now, killing him would only solidify what he had said about her last night. She was above that, no matter how irritating he was. His smirk taunted her.

"You expect me do to the same for you?" She asked dryly, putting her dagger away but never moving a hand far from it.

"It would be nice, I suppose." Pike stood up, brushing off his pants, "But no."

"So you're not going to kill me, then?" Hermione asked, trying to figure out one of the oddest scenarios she'd been placed in since the games started, "You know, I think the you about a week ago would have jumped at a chance alone with me to kill me."

"Yeah, he would have." Pike agreed, "But I know I couldn't take you on alone, fine? I'm not stupid. You'd win. If I engage you, you might have to kill me. I have no doubt you're capable." He said very matter-o-factly.

"Not trying to kill me to prove your undying devotion to Pansy?" Hermione quipped, and he gave a dark laugh.

"Not today." He shielded his eyes, looking at the sun, "I think we should go that way. It's north, we'll run into something eventually."

"We?" Hermione nearly choked on the words, "What exactly is your end game here, Pike? We're both muggle-borns."

"Yeah, I'm aware." He said, locking his jaw, "Maybe I'm just waiting for Pansy to finish you off, as I'm sure she will." He said.

"Then what? How are you going to defeat her without someone like me?" Hermione asked.

"Let's just say the plan is about 60% right now." He began walking up, "Are you coming?" He asked after a moment, turning back to her with an exasperated sigh.

She looked at him hard, then at the unknown forest around her. She was usually quite good at recalling paths she'd taken, but she didn't even know where they were right now. They could be anywhere in the whole bloody area, and she needed to find the others. They'd discussed that when in doubt they should go back to the clearing. She looked behind her and only saw a denser forest, but up ahead was slightly lit.

"I hate you, I just want you to know that. I despise you with every fiber of being, okay, Webber?" She said, stalking a head of him, "I just want to make that abundantly clear."

Pike seemed unfazed, and in fact he gave a small laugh. "Join the club. Your boyfriend is in it too."

THEGREENGAMES

Draco landed on his feet, as he was quite used to port-keys. He spun around, blinking away the residual effects of the magic.

"Hermione?" He called, "Granger, where are you?"

He saw a bright flash of light, and Hannah Abbot popped from nothingness, skidding on the ground ungracefully.

"Are you okay?" He asked, bending down at her level.

"Just because I only have one bloody arm doesn't mean I'm useless." She snapped, trying to push herself up off the ground rather unsuccessfully. Draco stood up fully, his desire to help her slowly vanishing.

"I was being nice, okay? Not trying to mock you. Merlin!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily through it. Despite the fact that both he and the Hufflepuff loved Hermione dearly, they didn't get along all too well. He supposed it was because they hadn't the chance for any real 'bonding'. The last time they'd met she'd been obviously suspicious, which was fair, and it had been right after a traumatic experience. She had no true reason to like him, other than Hermione clearly did and unless she thought her friend was batty…

He spun around in a circle, realizing Hermione hadn't appeared yet, and that likely meant she wasn't going to.

"Buggering hell!" He spun around kicking the tree and lashing out at the bark. He'd only just found her what seemed like moments ago to now have her slip through his fingers once again? After last night? He'd kill those Game Makers if it weren't against his code.

"We're not…together?" Hannah's voice was quiet, anxious.

"I guess not." He said, still facing the tree, fury pounding in his blood. What if she was hurt? What if her wounds re-opened? What if she was stuck by Pike or worse, Pansy?

"They bastards." Hannah said, which did make him like her a bit more. He turned, trying to shove his anger away until it would be more useful.

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly."

"I guess…we go back to the clearing then." Hannah said, biting the inside of her cheek, "It's what we talked about. Hermione wouldn't deviate from the plan."

"Of course she wouldn't, your right." Draco said, a bit annoyed since he knew very well that that's where she'd be headed. It was as if Hannah thought he didn't know Hermione at all!

"Where are we-," Hannah began to ask, but stopped, and this made Draco give a good look around them. A light chill settled over him when he realized this assortment of trees, as impossible as it sounded, seemed utterly familiar.

It was familiar to Hannah too, because she immediately backtracked and ran. Although the trees were burnt from the fire, a few still remained and he remembered finding Hannah's mangled body and Hermione's hardly breathing one here, with Michael and Blaise, although it all seemed like years ago.

He came up to Hannah half-crying, half leaned over a tree emptying her breakfast. It couldn't be a pleasing memory to return to the place she lost her arm.

"I remember them slicing down my skin, even as I screamed. I remember the ways my bones cracked here, like brittle twigs. I remember the burn and the fear Hermione was going to die, and the agony of watching Ernie- my best friend since I was eight- getting speared before me." She whispered, her whole body shaking, "I couldn't forget it if I tried. And I don't want to." Her harsh whisper surprised Draco.

"You don't?"

Hannah stood, her eyes still puffy and tears still trekking down her cheeks, but she looked resolved, "I wouldn't still be alive if they hadn't, odd at it sounds. I needed it to build my armor around myself. I found you, didn't I?" She wiped her mouth, leaving Draco speechless, but he came to see that she was done remembering it all. She was much stronger than he'd ever previously given her credit for.

Or perhaps, she was merely doing what Hermione was trying to do; block it all out until the games were done and you could properly remember it in safer settings. He hoped so. They may not be best friends and all now, but that didn't mean that he couldn't feel angry and sorry for her horrors.

"They're both dead now, and I'm still alive." Hannah said, shaking Draco from his thoughts, "They couldn't kill me, no matter how hard they tried." There was an edge of pride in her voice, "Shouldn't we go to the clearing, now?"

"Yes…of course." Draco got over his shock quickly, pleased that she still wasn't crying all over. Not that he wasn't sympathetic and wanted her to release her feelings in a healthy way, but someone crying would slow them down and nothing would keep him from returning to Hermione at this point. Luckily, he felt that Hannah was thinking the same thing.

They walked for a little, Hannah with a determined step about her. Draco felt the silence was overwhelming, even for him, and he needed to stop imaging every bad thing that could happen to Hermione. It wasn't that he didn't think she was incredibly capable, but pervious experience showed she attracted danger like a moth to a flame.

"So…you have one arm. How's that?" He asked Hannah, legitimately curious. Hannah looked back; clearly taken aback they were talking, and looked a little offended.

"You're absolute shit at small talk." She informed him. He winced, realizing that his comment probably sounded uncouth.

"Yeah, I know."

Hannah seemed much more willing to answer now, and sort of laughed it off. "I guess I can't blame you for being curious. It's…well, it hadn't gotten hard at all yet, but it's different than home. I can't imagine cooking anything without burning my apartment down! Or just doing the simple tings I took for granted with two arms, you know? Out here, it's not too much of a bother." She said.

"Do you have any phantom aches?" He asked, knowing that those that lost limbs often still felt pain for an appendage that wasn't there.

"Once or twice, but I talk myself out of it. I managed to cast a numbing spell on myself once, but since there wasn't actually any flesh to numb, it didn't work. But hey, Healer Malfoy, I'm open to any suggestions."

Draco paused, catching his breath. It was the first time anyone had ever called him that, even if it was in jest. He hadn't finished his training, and he was just referred to as his surname while he was in classes. The Green Games had really mucked up his availability for classes. But hearing her say it…it made him realize how badly he wanted that when he left. He still wanted to be a healer, but now perhaps more so than ever.

Hannah coughed. "So?" She prompted. Draco grit his teeth.

"Unfortunately, the class on War and Trauma Recovery happened to be held a week after school ended. I was sort of tied up." He said, motioning around them. Hannah sighed, shaking her head.

"Almost useful…" She mumbled. Draco bit back a reply and flexed his fingers. Merlin, this was going to be one long day…

THEGREENGAMES

Colin woke up in a heavily foliaged part of the forest. The trees were much denser here, and it was mostly pine needles instead of oaks or maples. He shook off the dead pine needles from his jacket, and looked around.

"Anyone?" He called out, but only silence greeted him. He walked in a circle a little, staying mostly in the same place, until he was sure that no one else would be coming. It wasn't unexpected for the game makers to separate them, just annoying. He wasn't sure where he was at all. His best guess is that he was somewhere maybe north or west of the main meadow. He'd traveled extensively around the south part and the west part, while he was with Draco or Lavender. He'd begun with Seamus, Luna, and Ron, and they'd tailed it South West. There had been a couple small pine trees edging onto the forest there, and he'd skirted up and around a couple more after the spider invasion, which is when he'd run into Lavender.

The reality of how far he'd been, how many places he'd seen, really hit him. It felt like just days ago they'd been dropped here, but in reality it was over two weeks ago. He hadn't showered in two weeks, hadn't gotten a decent meal (excluding last night), and hadn't felt comfortable or safe at all. It really put things into perspective.

He found a higher tree with a couple more stable looking branches and clawed his way as high as he could, before he feared the branch would snap underneath him. He came up just slightly above most of the tree line in the arena.

He saw a couple clearings dotted through out, but saw a larger one that seemed to be almost straight a head of him. That must be the meadow, he figured. Also, there were aircrafts lifting off with heavy pieces of metal, which was likely the place they'd just been at. Looking at the forest between himself and there, he figured it would take almost the whole day to walk there, if he anticipated on one or two stops, which was reasonable.

He was about to get down, but something stopped him. If he forgot where he was, and what was happening around him, the scenery was really quite pretty. He didn't know where the Game Makers had decided to invade, but he could see bubbling streams, high cliffs, and grassy hills stretching out before him. He settled back on his tree branch, resting against trunk, and let the wind whip in his hair. He scanned the forest for any sign of his friends, but came up with nothing, which he didn't think he would to begin with.

Even with the forest fire that had ravaged part of it, and he could see the skeletal remains of charred trees in the distance, this was a truly beautiful sight. It was one he had ample time to allow himself to have, since a couple minutes or half an hour wouldn't make a difference in getting back to everyone. If the Game Makers were at all intelligent, and he knew they were, everyone else would have been deposited equal distances away so that they had time to clear everything from the meadow.

He was grateful he'd gotten to see his family again. It had hurt, but he was glad. His mother was angry more than anything, demanding an answer of why he hadn't fled, since he was a muggle-born after all, and other children from his blood type had been known to do that.

It wasn't something you understood unless you had magic. Hermione was a smart person, by any means, and you didn't see her leaving despite it being the logical solution. He knew that she felt the same way he did about magic.

That it was something worth fighting for.

He climbed down a little later, and adjusted his jacket. The air was a little frigid, and he wondered if it was any indication of the days to come. Then again, it could switch from summer to winter at a blink of an eye, so it was silly to assume this sort of weather indicated something worse.

There was a shifting sound through the trees, something that didn't sound quite animal like. Colin was intelligent enough not to jump out and see if it was someone he knew, but stayed very still, until an awful smell reached his nostrils.

He recalled having smelled this once before; Draco had said it was Pansy's magical signature. Terror shot through his veins as he jumped behind a tree, slapping his hand over his nose and mouth to try not to inhale more of the awful scent. It was growing stronger, and much more potent than the first time he'd smelt it.

He basically held his breath, screwing his eyes shut and attempting to mask his own magical signature, something Draco had only ever described to him in theory. He could hear the shuffling grow closer as sweat beaded on his forehead. He felt as though he was in a muggle horror movie, one where if the camera panned away from him there would be a demon grinning maliciously inches away from his tree. The idea of being yards away from Pansy with little back up and no Draco or Hermione around terrified him like nothing he'd ever felt before. Not even when Pike had viciously tortured him had he felt so much terror. Then, he'd just felt pain.

The shuffling stopped, and it sounded very near. He swore his heart was beating loud enough for her to hear, and his hand fumbled for his sword he'd found early on. He hadn't needed to use it yet, since he'd spent most of his time with Draco, so he wasn't even sure if he knew what to do with it if it came down to it. He wished he had a bow and arrow; he'd been really good at that in the practice, having years of experience in his childhood. Yet even that might take far too long to string and shoot, if he was far enough from Pansy to get a shot in, and who knew if she would be able to stop it or not.

The shuffling continued, away from him, and Colin nearly cried in relief to hear it leave, even though it was shuffling toward the direction he had intended on going as well.

Curiosity killed the cat, and Colin dropped to the ground and crawled through the underbrush for one fleeting glance at her. He saw a shadowy figure in the distance, and although the sightlines were rather crappy with these low-hanging trees, he knew what he was looking at was well, off. It wasn't quite…female. He used 'it' because what he was couldn't qualify as feminine to him anymore, at least not in the traditional sense. It still had vaguely human qualities, such as legs and arms, but from the back it seemed to be more of a lab experiment gone wrong; the skin color was too dark, it looked like plants were growing literally from it, and the way it shuffled about was more like a zombie than a person.

Colin didn't get a great look at her, but he didn't feel the need. Every second he stared at what used to be Pansy Parkinson he felt her overwhelming magical scent clog his throat and suffocate him from the inside. He scrambled back, deciding that even seeing Draco and Hermione again was not worth going the same direction as that thing.

He began going downward, even though it would take far longer to loop back around because it was well worth it.

He'd heard all the threats about what dark magic did to you if it went unchecked, and of course Voldemort's form that he took in the beginning was the perfect example, but never in a million years could his wildest nightmares dreamed up whatever the hell had happened to Pansy. Every time he blinked, she was in the darkness of his eyelids coming toward him.

About half an hour away from where he'd seen her, and happy to report that the smell of carrion was now only the faintest scent on the wind, a truly petrifying thought hit him: If Pansy wasn't 'human', as it seemed much anymore, how much harder would it be to kill her?

He didn't want to think about that, but it remained with him at every step he took. Suddenly, the ending of the Green Games seemed so much darker.

THEGREENGAMES (Below is a Meta of Pike Webber- not part of the actual story, but an extra, if you will! You don't have to read it to keep up with the story at all, just a look into his backstory)  
 _PIKE WEBBER META_

Pike was born in Germay. His entire life, he's been raised by his father and his older sister Fern, who were admittedly pretty shitty role models. He's never been quite sure what happened to his mother/why she wasn't around, and no one ever gave him a straight or similar answer when he asked, so one day, he stopped caring about it. His father was always bitter toward he and his sister for both having a magical power when he himself was horribly normal and he swore up and down that their mother wasn't a witch either-this is the only thing he knows of her. He didn't trust his dad on a lot of things, but he did believe him about this. In his mind, he's fairly sure they're a descendant of a squib somewhere down the line, as many muggle-born wizards and witches are- which is the most likely explanation for having not one but two magical children. He wouldn't even ever be able to guess what side the magic came from; an absentee mother and a father that didn't ever seem to really want to be a father…neither of those are exactly magical.

Pike was the type of kid that would kill animals violently and stuff their innards in jars after he's dismembered them before someone told him that normal people don't have these urges. He was raised in a rather rural area, and didn't have a lot of friends besides his sister, so he never once thought these types of actions weren't normal curiosity of children.

If there was one thing Pike excelled at, it was observing and mimicking. Although he was still curious and rather violent, he learned quickly that to be taken seriously, he'd have to give up these tendencies. His true obsession of people, such as Pansy, comes from this; anyone who can have both, power and depravity, and get away with it are something like gods to him. Even better if they're encouraged or many people know of their actions and they still can gather a following.

This made him fit quite well into Durmstrang, where he was happy and became a slightly popular kid and a good student. Karkoff was his first idol, for reasons previously discussed. The entirety of Durmstrang under Karkoff was almost to this goal; powerful enough so that you can do what you want, and no one would bat an eye. Power, of course, comes in different forms. He studied every type; money, knowledge, sex, strength, and ect. He started rising as one of these few people, even in his first year. As I said, he was good at mimicking, although he was always more of a follower than a leader because mimickers don't have original thoughts or actions but copy others.

During second year, Voldemort collapsed Durmstrang and Beaubaxtons and he was sent off with his sister (Seventh year, placed in Ravenclaw) to Hogwarts.

You may wonder why he didn't follow an influential guy like Voldemort the way he idolizes Pansy, because Pansy's depravity is somewhat influenced by Voldemort's original ideas. Firstly, he liked Durmstrang just fine, and he was bitter about being uprooted and thrown into a place where the values weren't the same at all.

Secondly, he was a muggleborn. And he realized quite quickly that Voldemort had something against his type, and more than a few were being sacrificed in some bloody (literally) game. Although Slytherins weren't chosen yet for the Green Games, there was a murmuring around the common room that it wasn't an 'if', but a 'when'. He wasn't all to pleased at this prospect, seeing as he'd be a likely target. There weren't a lot of other Muggle borns within Slytherin.

He acclimated to the aura of Hogwarts. He did his studies, and while he wasn't a perfect student, he didn't flunk any classes. He stayed below the radar, and truth be told, was actually the sort of decent guy he imagined himself to be. While he might have been morbidly curious and flinching violent, he prided himself on having his limits, and he indeed have his breaking point. He learned the forbidden curses but didn't use them like Crabbe and Goyle seemed to love to (Although, honestly, the thought crossed his mind occasionally). He stood up for girls in the Slytherin house that were being bothered. He never once called Hermione a 'mudblood' because he'd been called it too. If you didn't give him a reason to hate you, he likely didn't. The best way to gain power was to not make enemies unless absolutely necessary.

Being an asshole wasn't the allure to him; having the power to get girls to cry when they slept with you seemed ridiculous to him. The allure was the psychopaths, honestly. Sort of a fucked up Dr. Frakenstine type of power, the power to see what people's limits were, what it took them to break, and what literally made them tick on the inside. In another life, had his mother perhaps been around, he might have been a doctor or a scientist. Had he not been placed in the Green Games, he would have always been woefully curious, but would have restrained it because normal people don't dismember other people. By this point, he realized that you had to be a certain type to get to that sort of power he craved, and he realized that wasn't going to ever be him. So, he figured he'd do the next best thing, attach himself to someone who could.

He was picked for the games at the age of 15. He wasn't all too happy, but he found Pansy and attached onto her power immediately. He was a Slytherin. He was looking toward the best chance of winning, and heck, that was her. He defiantly idolizes her in a creepy way that's hard to understand. It's not love; Pike doesn't have the capacity to love, or at least, he doesn't understand it the way others do. If you showed him a healthy relationship example, it would likely bore him, and so he's just never messed around with that. And, now that he was more than encouraged to add blood and gore to the games to keep the viewers occupied, he really let his wild side out. He does enjoy torturing, he does enjoy killing. He finds it fun. But, he holds himself to those moral lines- that he believes that it wouldn't ever come to this in the 'real world', which is likely true, and that he really does have these different sides to him. It's like the idea behind the movies like 'The Purge', you know, if you give someone an outlet of evil, a lot of people will let it out because you allow it, but if you tell them it's not right, the wouldn't. Obviously the Plague movies are pretty messed up, and so is Pike. But, throughout the games, I think he's torn between the life he's created himself as (if you pretend to be something enough, you start to believe it) and maintain that good imagine he has of himself in a way, and being totally twisted. Unfortunately, Pike has literally no in between, and the bloody side of him is winning. He argues there are a lot of people like him at Hogwarts, which might also be true, and anyone who judges him is a hypocrite. He fines Hermione (of late) to be the worst hypocrite of the bunch. You can choose to not play the game, he'd say, but he figures he has a better chance of surviving and gaining favor of his overlord later if he does, and well, as I've said, he likes it almost as much as Pansy does.

Although, Pansy is much more reserved. Her path is revenge and terror. She has a specific list of people to kill, and everyone else simply wouldn't be worth her time. Pike kills indiscriminately; everyone is the same to him, all just bodies of blood that's waiting to be released, unless he knows it's a fight he can't win at the moment. He is terror in the sense that anyone could be his next target, whereas unless you've looked at Pansy the wrong way, you might make it out alive.

Most accurately speaking, the Pike in the Green Games is the real Pike and the Pike at Hogwarts is a culmination of a façade he's been practicing since he can remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that! No deaths! It's a bloody mid-year miracle! But of course, the group is split up and Pansy is...well, Pansy is something, and that can't be good for anyone.
> 
> btw I totally imagine Draco and Hannah to have a friendship like Bucky and Sam in the newest Capt. Am movie (although I don't actually ship Stucky! I feel like the only one on the internet...I actually ship Steggy or Romanogers. But the way they feel about each other is similar to that dynamic)
> 
> So, as I said, I'm currently in Italy studying abroad. If you want to see what I've been up to, my newly created Instagram name is FrostedGemstones22.
> 
> I'm not sure when the new chapter will be out, but for sure MUCH SOONER than this one...I'm hoping within the month, because I am in school in an incredible place, of course.
> 
> Btw, I've made a meta about Pike, which will be below this line. If you're curious or like it, I can write ones for the other three OCs of the group (Duke, Cal, and Elizabeth) and put them with the new chapters coming out. I am liking his character, or at least the complexity of it, and felt like I should write how I imagine him to come become this way. That was what was directly after the chapter.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin...yes, its been awhile...Junior year has smacked me down at full force :( I'm busier than I ever have been, plus I had to get a job-which then closed down- so now I had to find another job and it's just been...yeah. I also didn't want to give you a half-assed chapter, and my muse hasn't been loving this story as much as others, so there you go. But it is 25 pages, and things DO happen.

The pale dawn of the next day frosted the arena over, causing Hermione to shudder against the chill, and finally decide to put her jacket on.

Her and Pike had been walking hours. Somehow, the arena had never truly seemed so big, until now that she was forced to be walking back with her second least-favorite person. But then again, she supposed, a lot of the traveling she'd done had been in shorter spurts, so overall perhaps it was always this long. It had been almost nightfall by the time the portkey dropped them. They'd also stopped to sleep, but neither got very much at all.

She'd tried to abandon him early on, but this had proved to be difficult to do since they were both traveling to the same destination and neither had any plans to divert their journey, when already they'd been walking seemingly forever. So Hermione had compromised her anger raging inside of her by staying a couple yards behind Pike the entire journey. She was far enough away so that she could, in moments, attempt to pretend he didn't exist but he was never out of her eyeshot. Despite promising that he wouldn't try killing her, she knew better than to believe that.

In the beginning, Pike had the audacity to try to make small talk with her, chatting pleasantly about his first year at Durmstrang and what fun he had, to discussing the things at Hogwarts he almost missed. When this failed to entice her to speak, he switched to discussing things in the muggle world, obviously hoping to coax a connection between them, perhaps out of loneliness or boredom. A couple of his points she had to bit to keep from replying, such as when he talked about his favorite muggle movies that she also happened to watch to the point of memorization, or when he laughed about the difference between muggle and wizarding clothing.

But she wasn't here to make friends with someone like him.

Hearing him talk about his life in the muggle world also settled an uncomfortable truth on her shoulders. There were so few people left, the game was nearly up. While she liked to think that this was an indicator she'd make it, she knew that despite her best knowledge and skills the game makers could still throw something at them and it could be something stupid and silly but she'd die anyway.

There were obviously three muggle-borns left. Pike was one of them, as she watched his lanky figure puff warm breath into his cupped hands. If she were smarter, bolder, a worse person…she'd kill him now. She'd take her dagger she had strapped to her leg, and drive it through his skull. One less person to worry about, one last enemy to be constantly on the look out for.

But Pike knew just as well as Hermione that she'd never have the ability to do that, not unless someone else pushed her to it, say that he was hurting Hannah. On their own here she couldn't summon the will to kill him. It was how the game was meant to go, but to kill him? She already counted three deaths on her conscience; Seamus, Blaise, and Tracey; and Pike's- the willing act- might put her over the edge.

It was his failsafe traveling with her, that he knew she was a bloody Gryffindor.

And he could turn around at any time and shoot that arrow through her eyes, and it would be all over. If that was going to be the case, then she hoped Colin could come out on top. He had the raw ability, and it wouldn't be the strangest of outcomes.

They'd never said it, but there was the agreed-upon thought that neither could draw weapons against each other. It might be that they were both Gryffindors. Maybe it was that they both had loved Harry and abhorred his memory in these games. Or perhaps they were both simply too good of people to even think like that.

Although, if it came down to the two of them and Pike was already dead…she swallowed thickly, sorry to be thinking this, but realizing the truth; she hoped Pansy would kill him first. Merlin knew she valued her own life too much to give it up for him right now.

The choice between the half-bloods was an easy one; Hannah needed to win. And Draco technically already had his spot secured, or at least he wasn't fighting anyone in the way she still had to be. This gave her a feeling of relief; even if she died, she wanted Draco to be able to go on and find happiness outside of this place.

All of this was rather useless with Pansy still alive, though. It was made clear from the start that Pansy wasn't walking out of here with anyone, and she doubted that the Green Games had given the devilish girl a warmer heart. She even almost asked Pike what his plans were, for a moment stumbling into the pitfall of thinking that if they both had an enemy in Pansy maybe they could work together.

But that wouldn't work, and she kept her mouth shut.

Pike, after the first three hours, had realized Hermione was never going to talk to him and had given up. Three hours though…he was persistent, Hermione thought to herself with a chuckle.

It was probably nearing six or even seven hours now, and the silence hadn't bothered Hermione all too much. It seemed to be getting on Pike's nerves though, something she hadn't expected. He'd become stiffer and more shielded with each passing hour, border, and had killed two squirrels violently already maybe to just add some sound to his life, something to do.

That's what finally drove Hermione to speak to him. She figured if he was agitated by lack of speech; and in any other situation she would have loved to see his skin crawl; then it wasn't hard to assume that he would become less and less logical and more impulsive with each passing moment. If he got impulsive enough…she could see those furrowed arrows sticking through her skull right now.

"What did you think you'd get out of Pansy?" Hermione finally said out loud, breaking the silence. It was the first time she'd spoken since they'd started out. He jumped around, as though he thought maybe it wasn't really Hermione talking but someone else, his arrow drawn back. When he saw only Hermione, his eyes narrowed.

"You actually do speak, huh?" He teased, "And here I thought your depth of being stubborn had no end."

Usually, it didn't. Instead, Hermione merely shrugged. "I suppose curiosity killed the cat. Now, seriously, Pansy?" She scrunched up her nose.

"She wasn't always like she is now." Pike just shrugged, "When I first came, when the games were only a year old and no one knew where they'd start going, she was actually…pleasant…" His face contorted in a strange sense, "She knew how to command a room, I could tell that from the start. But she was funny, playful, even nice on occasion."

"So you're in love with her." Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Been there, seen that.

"I don't know." Pike looked away, ashamed, "Love is…" He didn't finish, "I appreciated what she- a tiny third year- could already do to a group of girls or a group of guys. She cut girls down to size until they had no choice but to follow her lead and she just enchanted guys until they'd kill themselves if she asked them to. That sort of power is very inviting, you know?"

Hermione didn't see how that was appealing at all to anyone, but obviously Pike found it to be very much so.

"And you want to stay underneath her power, then."

"Somewhat." Pike agreed, "It's in a Slytherin's nature to seek out the most worthy, attach ourselves to them. It's what Draco's done with you, in an opposite sense of my opinion of course. I chose Pansy."

"So if she asked you to marry her one day, you wouldn't then?" Hermione still wasn't convinced he wasn't thinking with his favorite appendage, the one most boys thought with. Pansy was pretty, she knew this much, even being a girl that abhorred her.

"Yes, sure." Pike nodded, "But unlike you and your Gryffindor-ish fairy tale assumptions, not all marriages derive from love. Most are about power. Ours would be, theoretically."

"And you'd rule the world together?" She asked dryly. Pike tapped the edge of his nose.

"When did she ever give you any sort of indication that this is how it would work?" Hermione snorted, wondering if Pike was just stupid now.

"She didn't." Pike was looking at Hermione strangely, "But you have to prove your worthiness, of course. I wouldn't just pick someone willy-nilly either. Proof." He said.

"So you think all this will make her spare you?" Hermione asked, "That she won't turn on you and stab her sword through your heart?"

"What, are you trying to get me to join your merry band of you, Draco, one-arm, and happy?" He questioned.

"Hardly." Hermione said, and then realized perhaps she should keep her mouth shut. Perhaps Pansy would kill him, if she were lucky. Why should she try to dissuade this event from occurring?

She could see the trees letting off in the clearing ahead. They were nearing back where they'd begun and there wasn't anything to indicate that mere hours ago there had been an entire structure, lakes, or horrible atrocities there. Even the trees, in some places, seemed to be re-growing their burnt branches, just hours after it happened.

"Well, pleasure walking with you." Pike said abruptly, and then turned.

"What? You're just leaving me now?" Hermione asked, feeling annoyed. Why couldn't he have done this any of the times before?

"Yeah, I thought you would be pleased?"

Hermione didn't reply, at least not to that. "Going back to Pansy?" She asked, and then realized that might be exactly it and she put up her guards. Pike gave a harsh laugh.

"Girl, if Pansy was anywhere near us, you'd already be dead." He said, which was fair, perhaps. Hermione didn't let her guard down, though. Pike chuckled at her tensed position, saluted her, and disappeared into the trees, away from her.

"Good riddance!" She called after him, harrumphing. She wished she perhaps could have gotten more of his plans out of him before he vanished, though. He, if he supposed them, might be able to take on Hannah or Colin…Colin especially was at risk.

She went, found a secluded space about a ten-minute jog away from the main area, and rolled out her bag. The air was still growing frostier by the minute and she wondered if it would snow again. She pulled the sleeping bag up to her shoulders, but did not light a fire. Instead she whispered warming spells and rubbed her now hot fingers all over her body. It was the best she could do when she was woefully unprotected right here. She didn't want to cast too many protection spells, especially when she didn't have any of her friends, and she wasn't sure how long they'd be staying.

It wasn't hard to stay awake, even though she'd been walking all night. Something in her mind keep her awake, kept her looking out. Her body seemed to realize that it just had to give a final push, because in probably the next couple days she'd get to rest (Death or winning, either way, rest).

It was maybe an hour more, Hermione couldn't tell time well here, before there was a rustling to her left. She whipped out her knife, and climbed up the tree as quickly as she could. If it was Pansy, maybe she could get the jump on her…

She let out a sigh of relief when she saw that telltale white blond hair.

She dropped from the tree in front of Draco and Hannah.

"Thank god!" She breathed, "I was so worried about you two!"

"Hermione!" Draco's whole face filled with relief, "Oh, thank Merlin." He grabbed her in a strong hug, surprising her a little, but at the same time it felt familiar and comfortable. She relaxed into it, inhaling his musky smell and letting herself imagine them in a place far away from here.

She pulled back to hug Hannah too, something she'd planned on doing regardless.

"How was the walk?" She questioned, more to Hannah.

"Long." She moaned, "I don't get what you see in him." She jerked a finger at Draco, who could hear her perfectly. He rolled his eyes.

"Is it because he's a Slytherin?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"No, it's because he's still basically Mafloy." She replied.

"I'm not asking you to love him. Just not to kill him." Hermione gave a tiny frown. It upset her that her best friend didn't like him very much, but then again he hadn't the time to win her over like he had others. And this situation was tenser than it had been before. She hoped when this was all over, if Hannah made it out and they made it out, they could all become friends.

But for right now, not wanting to kill him was good enough for Hermione.

Hannah's eyes widened. "Kill him? Hermione, I can hardly kill a mouse!" She laughed.

"What now?" Draco asked, interrupting them.

"Where's Colin? Did you see him?" Hermione questioned. Draco and Hannah both shook their heads. Hermione felt her heart deflate a little, "Well…maybe he was really far away…" She hadn't heard a canon, so there was that.

"He'll find us." Draco said, "He's smart."

"We should rest up. Conserve our warmth. It's freezing, man!" Hannah said, sneezing, "And do we even want to light a fire…?"

"I can set up some boundaries, one that won't let smoke out. We'll all smell like a campfire, but it should also warm us up. It will more absorb it so we won't die from lack of oxygen." He offered.

"You can do that?"

"I could almost put up any wall, given enough time." He said smugly, "I'll make it cover a wide range…so if anything human steps foot into it even a hundred yards away, we'll know. Give us a chance to collect ourselves."

Hannah didn't have an argument for him not to, and they both helped out in any way they could putting it up. It was another three long hours before it was completed.

"We should take shifts." Hermione said, "I can-,"

"No way." Both Hannah and Draco said at the same time.

"You look dead tired." Hannah said.

"Yeah, you should get some sleep. Did you get any last night?"

"I was traveling with Pike, so no." Hermione said in a clipped tone, "He didn't hurt me, I didn't hurt him. Couldn't shake him. It was more annoying than dangerous." She said, answering the questions she knew they'd ask.

"I can take first shift. I slept well last night. Draco took the shift, so he should sleep." That was probably the nicest thing Hannah had said to Draco yet.

"Thanks." Hermione said on his behalf, and shook out her sleeping bag. She curled up, and Draco began to slid in next to her.

Hannah made a gagging sound.

"Please, if Diggory was here you'd be leaping into his sleeping bag with him." Draco said, "And probably doing much more naughty things."

Hannah's whole face flushed and she opened her mouth, but couldn't find a proper argument. In the end, she just turned around and shook her head.

Draco curled up next to Hermione, sighing into her hair.

"I was so worried." He murmured, "I can't believe you were with Pike…fucking hell…"

"I was fine. We should really try to rest, when we still can." She whispered, and he nodded. Hermione was acutely aware that the last time she shared a sleeping bag with someone was Seamus…and they'd done…things.

But it wasn't like that with Draco, not now. Not only was the timing off and the situation awkward, but even if it wasn't…they just weren't there yet. And it would feel terribly dishonorable to Seamus' memory, and the feelings she had for him, to do that with Draco just days after. She counted back and she wasn't even sure it had been a week since he'd died. Maybe it had, but no more than two. People mourned over loves like that for months, even years.

She hoped one day she could find the strength to be like that with Draco. She wanted that, possibly more than anything else. He didn't push it, and he had been exhausted because within minutes of settling down, he was fast asleep. Like in the safe space, he'd curled his arms protectively around her, and coaxed her cheek near his collarbone. She could feel his heart fluttering through his clothes. It was a soft lullaby, a reminder that she wasn't alone, something tactile.

She fell asleep before she could even register that's what was happening.

She couldn't sleep long though, and it seemed like it was only a couple minutes before she opened her eyes. She wondered if these games would rid her of ever getting a fulfilled night's sleep again, if she'd always wake up gasping and terrified? It was something on the very long list of things she wished she'd asked Fred before she came here.

Draco's knuckles curled around her torso, his fingers slipping and vanishing beneath her. She carefully unwound herself, stepping silently from the sleeping bag. Hannah was sitting, eyes straight a head, never pausing.

"It's been about four hours." Hannah informed her, which was better than Hermione thought she might do.

"I can take a watch. Merlin knows I won't be sleeping." Hermione said, trying to make light of the situation. She sat next to Hannah and was awkwardly aware that she was sitting closer than usual, mostly because there wasn't an appendage between Hannah's side and Hermione's arm anymore. She wondered if she scooted away, would the reason to be obvious?

"I miss my arm." Hannah sniffled, reading Hermione's mind, but clearly thinking of things differently, "Like, really, really miss it. I'm so upset, you know? Hardly anyone's ever lost something to these games, and I lose an entire part of my body." Hannah said, the tears breaking loose, "I keep thinking if I win…I'll wake up, and this will be part of the nightmare, but it's not. It's real. My arm is…gone. You never realize how much something like that would mean to you until it's not there anymore."

"Oh, Hannah." Hermione's voice softened, and she pulled her friend into a tight hug. It didn't sooth Hannah.

"I can't even give proper hugs anymore…" She whispered, pained.

"Rubbish. You give good and proper hugs!" Hermione said, shaking her head frantically, "I'm not just saying that, you know." She added.

Hannah didn't answer. Instead, she looked out into the forest. "Wonder where Colin is." She said, trying to distract herself, "Wonder if we'll get to see him again."

"We will." Hermione said, but she herself had the same fear. She knew Draco would be sad to never get to see him again.

"It's much later than when we arrived…I didn't think the area was so big."

"But did you ever think…" Hermione swallowed hard, not wanting to imagine it, but forcing herself to, "I was with Pike…you were with Draco…Colin…"

"Is with Pansy?" Hannah's voice was caught between a squeak and a horrified gasp, "Oh, shit! We…there wasn't a canon, was there?"

"I was asleep." Hermione reminded her, "I think we're okay if you didn't hear one. But who knows what Pansy's doing with him." Hermione flinched.

"Oh, Colin…" Hannah keened, "Get back to us safe…"

Colin was stumbling around, using all his energy to try to tap into Pansy's magical signal, like Draco had begun to teach him. He was going to keep his distance from her and hopefully she wouldn't pick up that he was there. He wondered, though, if she were so powerful…could he really do anything to stop her from finding him? As it was, he kept at least 100 yards (he imagined) away from her, and he only knew because sometimes he'd get the most awful smell in the world, and he'd back up, and it would vanish.

Not to think of Pansy as human, but he wondered if her magical scent was always like that? Or was there a time, as a second-year, before all this, that maybe she smelled like mint or licorice? And maybe that was the saddest thing of all?

He knew well enough he couldn't hide his own magical signature, as that was something even Pansy had not attempted to do and Draco was good at it only through years of rigorous practice, so he hoped this way- this painstaking sort of dance, was good enough. Nearly a quarter of a mile out from the center, he lost her completely.

In his mind, this wasn't a bad thing.

It was only then he realized he'd done a shoddy job of covering his tracks physically. Anyone could track him. Pike could track him, and he wasn't good at much. He mentally cussed himself. More than that, he wondered how he was going to find Hermione and Draco at all? For Draco, a Slytherin, hiding and converting oneself perfectly was a natural instinct. For Hermione, she had studied the steps to keep one's self hidden until it was an instinct. They wouldn't make mistakes like leave footprints in the mud or snap branches in their wake. They wouldn't leave anything at all to indicate where they were going or where they went.

But Hannah, he realized? She may not be quite as skilled, and for once, this was a good thing. He began to scour the area near the outskirts of the field for signs of a person who wasn't stepping softly on the peaty ground or pushing away branches with a deft hand. He did have the horrifying thought, for a moment, that perhaps when he did find the trail, it would be Pike instead, but he dismissed it. Last he knew, Pike still had that bow and arrow. Pike, although a Slytherin, was also more of a destructive force and therefore wouldn't be concerned with masking his steps or where his quiver went.

Colin was versed enough with magic and magical detection to know the second he stepped over one of Draco's barriers, and his whole body just sagged with relief. He waited exactly where he was, and true to his prediction, Hermione came inches away from slicing his face off with her little knife.

"Colin! Thank Merlin, where have you been?" She cried, dropping the knife completely and throwing her arms around him.

"It's a long story. One I should tell everyone." He grimaced. She nodded, picking up her knife.

"Of course, yes. Come, you look exhausted. Have you slept at all?" She asked like a worried mother hen.

"Not truly." He admitted, "It's been…it's been a day, really." He couldn't find more to say.

Hannah and Draco were both equally relieved and overjoyed to see him, which made him feel nice and fuzzy. It was good to be wanted. Outside the dome, the snow was falling heavily around them now, but in here, they were nice and toasty. He was momentarily distracted by the way the snow floated down until he heard Hermione ask about Pansy. Turning with a grim look, he thought back to the way she looked…and shuddered.

"I was dropped with Pansy, yeah." He confirmed to Hermione's guess, "I never…talked with her, I mean, I think I was just dropped near her, you know?"

"How is she?" Draco asked, although it wasn't in a way that he was concerned of her health. It was with a hope she was worse off than before.

"She's…I don't think she's really Pansy anymore." He expressed with a frown.

"How can she be not Pansy?" Hannah laughed nervously.

"She's far gone into dark magic, the kind that well, you know…" He didn't want to speak it out loud, not even years after it all happened, but everyone understood, "It's, she's, dammit, something else. Something melded with plants and death and I can't even describe it. It's powerful, though. Really, really, powerful."

Hannah gave a tiny squeak, Hermione looked ill, but Draco merely looked pensive.

"She's probably drawing energy from this forest here, you know. It's a lot of energy, but it's used quickly. She probably never noticed you because she's so intent on keeping herself well powered. It's a gamble, but if she were to meet any of us…she'd be nearly unstoppable."

"Nearly?" Hannah gave him a dry look, "I'd say basically."

"Well, she's not immortal." Draco huffed, "We won't win in a one-on-one fight, or even two-on-one. We have to get her some way without directly confronting her. And we have to throw everything we've got at her." He said firmly.

"Can't we just wait for the game makers to tire of her and kill her off?" Hannah asked weakly.

"Well all know that won't happen." Hermione said softly, angrily, "She's interesting now." Suddenly, something lit up in Hermione's eyes and her back straightened instantly, "Fred's bombs!" She cried.

"You want to bomb Pansy?" Hannah sounded unsure.

"Yes, yes, something like that." Draco nodded rapidly.

"How will we know where she is, though? To plant it?" Colin said, "I mean, we have enough for one, right?"

Hermione gave a slightly less enthusiastic nod.

"Well, look at it this way. There are only six of us left. That's only five to go through if Pansy really does want to win it alone, which we all know is a threat not to take lightly. And, even if she were just a normal player, there would only need to be three more deaths to win, and that can happen in a day. But Pansy…she's not one to have others do her dirty work. Sitting still unsettles her. She'll want to finish this herself. She's going to have to come find us, eventually. I'd say she might have even started looking right now." Draco pointed out.

Colin felt a shiver run up his spine.

"We take out Pansy, Pike will be simple to take out." Hermione added thoughtfully. She didn't say what Colin knew she was thinking. And then it was between her and him…one would have to die for the game to end. By the way she averted her eyes, she clearly was feeling guilty with her thoughts.

"We'll need a place that's high, with not a lot of things around to maximize the impact." She continued briskly, gliding over that thought.

"I saw a pretty big tree in the dead zone that wasn't too badly burnt. It's high, and everything around it is charred or ashes." Hannah realized.

"Yes, that way she can't draw energy from around the area to protect herself either." Draco was bouncing on one foot, excited.

"To detonate it…" Colin rubbed his chin, where slight stubble was forming. It had been over two week since he shaved, of course, but he was still unused to feeling it. He wondered how Draco didn't have the beginning of a beard, to be honest, "Can you make a trip barrier or something? Like as soon as someone steps through it, boom?" Colin made a hand gesture.

Draco contemplated it. He drew a couple figures in the ground that Colin couldn't decipher. After a long moment, he nodded.

"I can. But we need to be extremely careful of it. If anyone steps through it, me or you or Pansy, it will go. I can't tailor it to be just the people we don't like."

"Then we'll scatter until she does, or get her to go through there." Hannah said, "We should prepare for this. I saw an apple tree on our area. I think I should go get them for dinner."

"Oh, yes please!" Colin said, and it wasn't until now he realized he was famished.

"And the fire wood is a little low. It's not getting any warmer, I'll collect some more." Hermione offered, standing up and brushing her coat off.

"I'll keep the fire going, get some tinder and such." Draco said.

"And I'll-,"

"Sleep." Hermione interrupted him, "You should sleep. We'll wake you when we start putting the plan into motion. You'll make a mistake it you don't." She said kindly. He looked behind them to where there was a sleeping bag, running his hands over his head.

"Yeah, you're right."

"She usually is." Draco said with a proud tone. He chuckled, smiling. Maybe, he thought with a tiny thought, maybe they might just make it through this.

THEGREENGAMES

Draco was relived to have a plan. He was relieved that they could kill Pansy in an indirect way without having to put his own morals on the line, his entire job after this. He was pleased that the end seemed, well, actually attainable. Hermione and Hannah broke off into the forest, and he set to work on the fire. It wasn't near dying yet, but he grabbed some twigs of the ground and skinned them of their leaves before throwing them onto the fire.

He felt well rested, which was a first, and there was the thought that maybe the next time he slept could be his own bed. That gave him energy alone to want to get through this. He hoped Hermione might be in his bed too, if he were being honest.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" He said, realizing Colin was pacing behind him.

"I'm thinking." He answered with a short frown.

"About…oh." Draco quickly surmised his thoughts. If this all worked…

"Maybe the game makers will let you live too?" He offered up weakly, "Or Hermione." He said, feeling his heart tear a little. He liked Colin a lot, and he didn't want him to die. But obviously he liked Hermione more.

"I understand, don't pretend like you'd pick me over Hermione." Colin gave him a pointed look, "And we know they won't."

Draco was pretty sure he was right. His throat tightened.

"So…what then?" Draco asked.

"I don't know." Colin said. His voice was quiet and broken, deeper than anything else he'd ever heard.

"I…" Draco's lips turned down, "I wish there was another way." He said that sincerely. When Colin didn't speak, Draco turned back around to grab more little sticks to give himself a task, distract himself from the unsettling truth he'd just seen too.

When he came back up and turned, Colin was unexpectedly inches away from his face.

"Oh, I-,"

Before he could finish his apology, or maybe it was a question, Colin had reached forward and grabbed his face with both his hands and kissed him. Draco felt his fists unclench and his whole body stiffen at this unanticipated turn of events. Kissing a guy was…a totally different experience, and one he wasn't sure if he knew even how to classify.

And then, Colin stepped back, casually setting his hands in his pockets.

"Wha…" Draco began, still stupefied, and Colin's face was as red as Weasley hair.

"Don't think I'm trying to break up you or Hermione, or sway your thoughts like that, because I want you two to end up together after all this. I want you to get married and make infuriatingly intelligent kids. I didn't even think I'd ever tell you. That was…for me. It was selfish, really, and sort of a spur of the moment choice…I don't expect anything from you at all." Colin explained, albeit awkwardly, nodding quietly, "Yes, well…I suppose I should try to sleep now."

Draco still stood where Colin had kissed him, head turned and staring intently at Colin as he curled under the sleeping bag and had fallen asleep within mere moments.

"Draco?" Hermione's voice shook him from his wonderment, "You look…strange."

"Colin just kissed me." He said, turning toward her.

"What?" Hermione said, but it wasn't in a totally shocked tone, more just like she'd heard that the weather was going to be slightly colder than expected.

"Yeah." Draco sat on the log, "Did you know?"

"That he was…well, what is he, even?" Hermione mused, "Bi? Gay? At any case, no, I didn't." She shook her head, "Are you…okay?"

"Okay?" Draco guffawed, "He kissed me, not knifed me. It wasn't bad. Just, unexpected."

"And you?" Hermione asked with a small glimmer in her eyes.

"I'm straight, I'm sure." He confirmed, "But it was a totally Slytherin thing to do, you know. He obviously has picked something up from sticking around me." He added with a small smile, "I'm not mad. I'm still just a little shocked. I'm sure when it wears down, I'll will just…be. It happened, I don't think he intends to bring it up again, and therefore neither will I."

Hermione giggled, "How does it feel to have two Gryffindors head over heels for you?" She asked.

"If you'd told me that even a year ago, I might have thought it was like Lavender and some other annoying screamy girl. But Colin and Hermione? I would say you're daft and be flattered, maybe, but declined-well, I mean, not you but…well, maybe I still would have, for your safety." He said, gnawing on his lip, "What is about me that attracts you guys? Is it the danger? Gryffindors love danger." He rolled his eyes.

"You know, I'll cross-reference it with Colin and get back to you." She said and they both laughed a bit at the thought.

Hannah came back, stomping through the underbrush with her shirt pulled up far to make a basket and shiny red apples nearly falling from it.

"You know, in hindsight, apple picking with one arm and no basket is really difficult." She muttered, dropping her entire shirt and flexing her arm. The apples tumbled to the ground.

"Delicious. We thank you all the same." Draco said, reaching forward to pick one up, shining it on his sleeve.

"Yeah, yeah." She said, sitting down and taking a bite out of one, closing her eyes in satisfaction at the crunch it made.

Hermione took her knife and began carving away the skin, sighing.

"You know what I wish I had right now? Cinnamon…Merlin, I wish I could boil these and add cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar…" She listed, licking her lips. Draco gave a quiet moan beside her.

"I never thought I'd be horney over food." He muttered, shaking his head, "But if anyone can make me that way, it's probably you."

"I am too. Imagine a good apple pie. Or, even better, smoked ham with an apple sauce over it…cooked perfectly…so juicy…" She whispered.

"Imagine bacon." Draco said and all three made noises of want.

"It's like I can almost taste it…." Hermione sighed, "That's it. We need to end this soon."

"What? So you can have bacon?" Hannah teased.

"Obviously." Hermione laughed, but then got a little quiet, "And also…I just want it to be over. I'm so tired." Her last statement was a whisper; as though she was afraid Pansy would overhear it and know her true feelings.

"I used to be a hunter, way back when I was a kid. My dad took me. Proper nobility stuff and all, something we carried over from muggles. And my job doesn't prohibit the killing of animals, as long as we thank them and use all their bodies properly and respectfully, but after this I couldn't imagine…" He frowned, "I can't."

"We're going to set the bomb today, aren't we?" Hannah asked a little anxiously.

"We gotta. If we sit on the idea long, it won't be as good. And why shouldn't we? We could be done with this game in a day, maybe too. Be home." His voice felt strangled as he said 'home' and Hermione felt a tear escape down her face. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand.

"At dusk. That gives us at least four more hours, and we should all get some rest. Who knows after if we're going to have time to sleep again?" Draco said and it was unanimously agreed.

THEGREENGAMES

"Bombs?" Neville asked, staring at the TV and swinging his gaze back toward Fred. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, having been away from the TV for a bit.

"What happened?" He asked, striding over in a couple swift steps.

"They're apparently trying to take out Pansy, and maybe Pike, with apparently some bombs you gave Hermione today," Ginny waved her hand at him, "Oh, and Colin kissed Draco."

Fred gave her a hard look and she rolled her eyes, "I swear, I'm not lying!"

"That's hardly worth commenting on. I mean, I thought it was obvious he had a thing for Draco." Dean said, "Did no one else pick up on that?"

"You gave her bombs…" Neville repeated, looking at Fred, "Don't you think that could go, I dunno, south?"

"It's in Hermione's hands, Neville." Fred tried to keep his annoyance to a minimum; everyone was on edge lately, "Do you think she'll muck it up?" He asked.

"There are more factors than Hermione alone can control." Neville said, scowling, "It can take out Pansy, yeah, but it can take out them too. And I swear to god, Fred, if you are single-handily responsible for indirectly killing Hannah, Hermione, and Colin I'll-,"

"You'll what, Longbottom?" Fred snapped, his patience twisting away. Neville stood and Ginny jumped between them.

"Merlin, please!" She groaned, "It's bad enough that we're all wound up and that the games are drawing terrifying close to a close, but I won't have my boyfriend and my brother go at it too! There's too much violence as it is." She said, glaring angrily at both of them.

"Sorry, I just…" Neville wound his hands, "Hermione has always been nice to me. She's a good friend, not that Ron and Harry weren't but…"

"I understand." Ginny's eyes softened, "Hermione is special to all of us. That's the problem," She said, glancing around the room but her eyes landing a second longer on Fred, knowingly, "We all care too much about her." Her voice cracked.

"Hermione is intelligent, and honestly, so is Draco. Between the two of them, if they're quick and careful, it should be okay. The two substances are harmless until they meet, so unless someone is clumsy enough to trip and crash them together, things should go smoothly." Fred said, taking a chair, but he hated the way his whole body was still tense.

"Well, if you say so…" Neville still seemed woefully unconvinced.

THEGREENGAMES

Dusk came softly, the snow continuing to fall even heavier than before. They all lay on the ground, huddled around the warmth of the bonfire, which warmed the entire area. It saddened Hermione to be leaving it soon, but it was necessary. She was on watch, everyone else asleep. She'd slept right away, or at least attempted to. She pretended like she'd gotten enough time, but in reality, she'd been wide-awake and heard every noise. How could anyone sleep like this?

Draco roused himself, an amazing task because once Hermione was out, she was firmly asleep, and gazed at the sky. He nodded to her. She went to quickly wake Hannah, who lashed out and whose fingernails grazed in a slashing motion across Hermione's cheek before she was fully awake, and Hermione grabbed her wrist.

"Hannah, it's me. It's time."

Hannah woke fully, looking at her hand in Hermione's grip and the small marks on her friend's face.

"Merlin, I'm so-,"

"Hannah, it's fine." Hermione assured, "I can't blame you at all."

Draco had woken Colin, who looked extremely well rested in comparison to the state he'd been in earlier today, and they all milled with anticipation for what was to come.

"We should plan everything out before we take a step." Draco announced, "Like, who's going to climb the tree to plant the bomb?" He asked. There was a quiet moment.

"I think I'm out of that job, not to seem like I'm trying to be unhelpful, but…"

"Ah, yeah, no." Draco said awkwardly, "We didn't think…you're excused." He said.

"I could do it." Hermione offered, "I've climbed a lot of trees in the game thus so far." She said.

"Yeah, but how many after burning your hands?" Draco asked, turning her palms upward, "If you get cut, you might not notice and we both know you cant afford to get infections now…"

"I'm sure I could manage," Hermione rolled her eyes, slightly annoyed, taking her hands away.

"But the point is you don't have to." Colin spoke up, "I'd be willing to."

"Me too." Draco agreed, "I think it's between us two."

"How many trees did you climb as a kid, Draco? Can't imagine Malfoy Manor has a lot of wild, tall trees good for that sort of stuff. Me? I grew up in them, basically. I could climb a lamppost if I needed." He said, bragging a little.

"But do you know how to activate the bomb? These are dangerous materials, Creevy-,"

"Yeah, I know. I took Chemistry during the summer, at my mom's request. I was pretty good at it." He assured.

"But it needs to be perfect." Draco seemed a little nervous. Hermione realized that he probably wasn't the best tree climber between the two of them, but was concerned about letting someone beside him or Hermione touch the materials.

"Well, explain it to me, exactly what you have planned."

"And don't you need to be on the ground to make the barrier?" Hannah asked, frowning. Draco gnashed his teeth.

"I do, but-,"

"Then there's little to discuss. Colin can handle it, you need to be down here, that's what's happening." Hannah said firmly. Draco just sort of stared at her for a moment, unused to hearing her tone, but nodded.

"You're right." He finally relented, "Colin, look at this diagram I'm drawing here…"

They waited while Draco explained in painstaking detail how to put the two almost on top of each other, without touching, and how to magically enchant the barrier so that when he made a magical barrier around the area, it could be connected, and when it was tripped, the piece of fabric separating the two would vanish and the two components would come together and well, boom.

"I get it." Colin finally said after Draco went over it for the fifth time.

"There's no such thing as being over-prepared." Draco said tersely, "But we're loosing the little light we have. You're right, time to go."

The trek to the tree that Hannah had seen. It was indeed perfect. The bark wasn't too rough, or too smooth and they all watched with pounding hearts as Colin took the backpack and leapt onto the tree.

"Merlin help us…" Draco muttered, yet other than that it was completely silent as they watched Colin pull himself from branch to branch. Hermione, at one point, realized she was holding her breath and let out a long sigh through her nose.

"He's up completely." Draco whispered. They were now outside their own safety zone and Pansy could be anywhere, although Draco had yet to sense her.

"Come on, Colin, work quick…" Hermione muttered to herself, her entire heart pounding through her chest. It was agony watching him work, each second feeling like hours, and all she wanted was for him to be safe on the ground again.

"He's almost done, I think." Draco said, looking up against the reddish sky of the dying sun, "Longer than I would have taken, but still decent…" He muttered, although Hermione knew his criticism stemmed from worry and not arrogance.

"This has to work." Hannah said, her foot tapping and she rung her curls around her finger to the point Hermione thought she might tear her hair from her head.

Up above, Colin turned himself around on the branch he'd been sitting on and gave them a 'thumbs up' signal and turned himself around to descend down the tree.

There was a whistling in the air, like the sound of something slicing through something, and it all happened too fast.

Hermione saw something big suddenly obscure her vision of the sky and she and Hannah were shoved back against something hard as a deafening echo pierced her eardrums.

Next thing she knew, she was tasting dirt as her face was pressed down into the peaty soil mixed with ashes, and she couldn't hear anything but a persistent ringing that told her nothing was good at all.

Dazed and the wind knocked from her, she tried to struggle onto her back and cough out the dust, and her entire head felt as though she'd been doused underwater and then slammed against a rock. And she still couldn't hear anything. It was strange, going from absolute sound- the entire forest, the crunch of the feet of her friends as they hovered, even just hearing her own breath- to hearing nothing but that mosquito chime ever persistent in her eardrums.

She looked up and saw dust and ashes in the air, hovering everywhere and something heavy and moving across her and Hannah. Where was Draco? Where was Colin?

Confused and terrified, she pressed up, trying to get out, feeling claustrophobic for the first time in her life and pressed against the gray object above her, thinking it was stones, but instead feeling something akin to skin stretched between joints. Then, it moved and she realized she was looking at the underside of a gigantic white wing connected to a gigantic white dragon.

Hannah gazed up too, mouthing the words 'of fucking corse' (she likely said them too, but Hermione was still reeling from whatever had happened, she had mostly figured out by this point her ears had popped) and she gazed around frantically.

"Draco!" She called, but she didn't even know if she was making sound. The world around her was gone. The trees, the earth, the bushes—it was as though someone had scooped it up and dumped it back on itself, everything in disarray, everything wrong.

She felt a gentle nudge and looked up to see the face of the dragon, which until now she hadn't even had time to wonder where it came from, and felt immediately stupid when she connected with those gray eyes. She understood Hannah's reaction now.

The dragon was Draco, obviously. She had never asked about his animangus, but this was obviously it. And he'd saved them from…She sunk to her knees, shaking her head frantically. No, no, no! How had it all gone so wrong? What happened?

She saw Draco slim back down into his body. She was beginning to get a little bit of her hearing back, thankfully it wasn't permanent.

"Colin!" She heard Draco screaming, "Colin, I swear to Merlin, you'd better-,"

"It's obvious." Hannah said, standing shakily. It was as though everyone was underwater and she was hearing their voices through the expanse of an ocean, "The bomb went off. There's nothing left of Colin."

Hermione had seen and felt many things in the games that should sicken her, and some had, but nothing made her feel more nauseous than the thought of Colin being blown to bits, everywhere and nowhere. She didn't even want to sift through the destruction of the area, terrified of what she might find. Her stomach heaved and she spat back up the apples she'd had that morning.

"How did he…" She asked gasping, "I thought we were okay, he was okay."

"He was. It was an arrow, I saw it coming." Draco said, whole body shaking in fury, "He did nothing wrong. That could have been me…" He realized, whole body tensing.

Hermione felt even sicker. "Pike had arrows." She said, his name drying out her throat.

"I'm going to fucking kill him." Draco said, standing suddenly, pacing, "I'm going to rip him to shreds."

"I thought you didn't kill?" Hannah asked, scowling and stopping his circle making.

"Colin deserves this vengeance." Draco insisted.

"And Lavender doesn't? I don't? Hermione doesn't?" She insisted, "What about Colin makes him so special?" She demanded.

"I don't know." Draco said, "But believe me, Pike and Pansy will pay for what they did to Hermione. Now I just have more reason."

"Stop it." Hermione said softly, "You're not thinking right. You don't want to kill them. Maybe you do, actually, but you can't. We need to leave this area, you guys. We're sitting ducks right now." She said, trying to strive back for logic.

"Fine." Draco agreed and Hannah nodded. They stumbled back to their safe area, tears leaking from all their eyes and hearts heavy.

"How did we miss that?" Draco was mumbling, his anger lapped back until he just felt anguish. Hermione could feel it coming off him in waved, "And I…I would kill Pansy for you, Hermione." He added, "Colin's not…"

"Shh…it's okay. We don't even need to think about that right now." She said quietly. She was still reeling about what happened too; still trying to rearranged her thoughts. She should know better than anyone that things could go from bad to worse in seconds, but she hated it so.

She wanted so desperately to believe Colin was still alive, but even if Draco hadn't confirmed the canon seconds after the bomb went off, she couldn't get an imagine out of her mind that would haunt her forever. It was so simple, so unassuming, but it was the thing-out of all the tings Hermione had seen- that she wished she could erase from her mind forever; flecks of red spread impossibly wide in the pure white snow.

THEGREENGAMES

Pike had sought Pansy out after leaving Hermione. Some may call him stupid, some may call him brave, and others may call him insane. Pike called himself a realist.

It took hours to track her down. She was good at not being found when she wanted to go about something alone, and honestly he wasn't the best at tracking. It was one of the reasons he'd stayed with Hermione so long (not only to push her buttons) but also because he was shit at compassing and he probably would have walked the entire wrong way from the center without ever realizing it.

So, he was incredibly proud when he came across a stench so awful to some that it might cause vomiting but to him was sweet relief. He searched around and just when he thought he was going crazy, a voice came from the shadows behind him, nearly making him jump out of his skin. He spun, and he was taken aback when it was simultaneously Pansy and not Pansy that stood in front of him.

"You are something, coming back to me." Pansy's voice was garbled, like someone had taken hold of her throat and twisted; yet he still recognized her underneath it. It took all his willpower not to wince at the sight of Pansy before him.

Her skin was halfway molded with decaying bark, like she had become a tree, and her hair was impossible matted with sticks and moss and leaves. Her eyes were glowing a faint red, similar to Voldemort's gaze, and when she stepped she moved like something was pulling her down into the very ground. Each sluggish movement she took left patches of black, dead grass wherever she stood. It was as though she was death herself, standing in front of him and examining him carefully.

Pike thought she looked beautiful; no, powerful.

"Call me whatever you like." He shrugged. He knew very well that at any moment she could reach out and snap his spin like a toothpick, extremely easily with all the power she was exerting, but for some reason he was unafraid. He was intelligent enough to realize it going alone would be suicide. It was indeed safer to try his luck at coming back to her, something he had promised himself he wouldn't do but Merlin…she was so powerful. So wonderful. So seductive.

Pansy tilted her head.

"How was your family?" She sneered.

"Enlightening. I suppose you could call it a vision quest or something, but I feel…stronger." He said. Pansy gave something that might have looked like a smirk, but her features were all messed up just slightly enough to make herself look unnerving. He felt her dark tendrils reaching out toward his mind once again, but this time, for unknown reasons, he felt more prepared for it, and strangely enough was able to delay her longer and more effectively than before.

She didn't prod long. Quickly, she retreated, an impressed look on her face.

"I see." She commented quietly, "That perhaps I was mistaken to treat you as a subordinate when perhaps we made it so far together because you are an equal."

Pike looked at her, unconvinced. "Sure." He scoffed, "And I also believe in the tooth fairy."

Pansy gave a smile, but her mouth was black and a bug crawled from her lips. "I understand your hesitance, of course. Why trust me? Why believe me when I say I acknowledge you as someone akin to myself? I suppose that's it, you can't trust me. Although, I suppose you wouldn't be here unless you were willing to make that bet." She said, "You wouldn't be here if you thought you were going to die tonight. We are, after all, Slytherins."

"You're right." He said.

Pansy dropped all her magic around him, and for a second she shimmered and she looked like the schoolgirl that Pike recognized. It was a sign of truth on her part, one he appreciated.

"What do you want, Pike?" She questioned.

"Take a guess." He snorted, crossing his arms.

"To come out of here alive." She said, "With me."

"Yes." He said, but didn't drop his defensive stance. Pansy was thoughtful.

"And why should I welcome you back? You left me." Pansy reminded. This was true, and Pike tried not to flinch.

"Well, because we worked well once together, or else you would have killed me, and if it's possible for you to change within the last couple days it's possible for me to grow to. I'm…better." He finally decided on the word he wanted to use. Pansy tapped her chin and he gave a wicked smile, "Plus we know those heroes are going to do something to try to win soon, and I saw which way Hermione went." He said.

Pansy gave a feral grin. "Now, that's how you make an understanding." She agreed appraisingly, "I've been trying to reach them but Draco's put a damn blocking spell around them. He always was good at those." She said, spitting on the ground.

"Are you still…"

"Draco is dead to me." Pansy said instantly, "I have little concern if he wins or looses now. If he repents, perhaps I'd let him live, but I'm cross enough to kill him anyway." She said. Pike felt his shoulders sag. He didn't know if he could stand to be around Pansy, the most powerful person in this arena, while she whined and pined about someone as insignificant as Draco Malfoy.

"So we kill them all?" He said hopefully. He would love to be the one to end Draco, and Hannah too. Something about that girl always just bothered him. He didn't know Colin enough to care, and Hermione…well, he knew they both couldn't survive it. He would never admit it, and hadn't even truly admitted it to himself, but he hoped Pansy was the one to kill her instead of him. She wasn't…awful. He'd acknowledged that much. Annoying as hell, but even with nearly dying, still a concern to Pansy and a deep concern to him. He had to admire anyone with that much power and if she were a Slytherin he'd probably have sworn his allegiance to her.

"Of course." She grinned at him, "How does being in your own bed tonight sound?" It was the little things, a comment like that, that reminded Pike that underneath that horrific mask…she was still human.

"Merlin, nothing would make me happier."

The pair set off in the direction that Pike had doubled back to and watched Hermione go. He hadn't followed her very far, but he got the gist of where she was going. She was tired and hungry enough to not take the time to change directions but likely just went straight to where her friends were. He was banking on that, at least. Merlin, he hoped he wasn't wrong. Pansy would kill him for sure if they couldn't find them.

Pansy shoved her arm out, stopping him walking with a jolt. He looked around, wondering if they were close and he hadn't been able to realize, but then saw Pansy was looking across the field.

"What do you see?" He hissed, just in case they needed to whisper.

"I spy with my little eye…something perfect." She practically purred, and lifted a dirty finger, "Don't you?"

Pike squinted across the blizzard-covered field, and felt his glee mount. Standing at the base of the tree was three figures and up high in a scorched birch was a blond boy. It was them.

"What are they doing, though?" He asked, looking harder, trying to figure out why one of them was in a tree so plainly in sight.

"A bomb, I'd guess." Pansy almost sounded bored, "I'm sure for us. What else would they need that sort of height and clearance for? That's the most realistic with the things they can get, also." She said.

"Should we…disarm it?" He asked, "After they leave?"

Pansy shook her head slowly. "Draco will likely do one of his barriers to connect it…the moment we touch anywhere near it we'll blow."

"We avoid it then." Pike decided with a nod, "A good radius, at least."

"How about something better." Pansy turned, looking meaningfully at his bow and arrows, "How good are you with those?"

"Fine, good enough-wait, you want me to blow it up?"

Pansy nodded, excitement vibrating off her. "Why not? We should use it to our advantage! We can kill them all right now, all four."

"I'm surprised you don't want to do it with your bare hands." Pike scoffed, feeling a little sad he'd miss that opportunity to.

"I want to win. I want to leave this place and leave nothing to chance." Pansy said with a firm warning, "If we let them sit long enough, no doubt people will pour in with a thousand different dangers and they'll think of ways to use them, like this. I know that feeling the life leave right under your palms is a sacred thing, something I will miss, but we must be smart about this."

Pike relented with a sigh, "You're right." He raised the bow and arrow, aiming right for Colin but lowered it, "I can't get it right in this snow." He moaned, "Are you any better?"

Pansy's jaw twitched. "No." She admitted with a long growl, "But…here give me it." She demanded and he handed it over. She murmured a couple words that he didn't recognize and some runes appeared and burned away the snow and into the earth. His arrow glowed for a second before going back to normal. She handed it back along with the bow.

"I've enchanted it for strength and distance so it will be able to cross the area with little resistance to the storm. Aim and pull back, and it should be able to do the trick, if you can shoot well. It can't magically go where you want it to go." She added dryly, "And I can try to monetarily pause the weather while you shoot."

"You can control the weather?" Pike let out a squeak of surprise and Pansy just gave a hearty laugh. When she locked eyes with him, hers glimmered with lust for something he didn't understand.

"Oh, Pike…" She moaned, "The things I've learned…they're bewitching…" She said, and he felt as though she was drunk with power. He wished he could feel such euphoria.

He nodded, and raises the bow, pulling it back and using his mouth to anchor it. He lined it up with Colin, intending to at least shoot it through the boy so even if he missed he still killed one of them, one that at the moment was a threat to his own winning.

"Ready?" Pansy asked, raising her hands. He nodded. He felt waves of power like a heatstroke roll from her hands and just like that…the world around him paused. The wind stopped whipping at his hair and the snow just hung…like it was on an invisible line, stopped right in front of his face. He wished he could exist in this magical show of power for a couple more seconds, but instead he focused, made sure that his point was true.

Then, he let go.

As the arrow sailed through the air, Pansy threw up her fingers and the snow began again and at the same moment she created a powerful force field around them. He hadn't even considered that the blast radius still might reach them all the way out here. If they really wanted to be sure to kill them, those heroes would have made it powerful.

The boom was like a train running over him. He didn't see much because the world around him was thrown up in dust and while the impact didn't quite reach where he and Pansy stood, the blast was powerful enough to vibrate through the force field and send them uneasily backwards onto the ground. The force field kept debris from cutting their arms and skin and so he watched from his position on the ground as the forest above him settled back into place.

Pansy was scowling. He sat up, and he saw why. Across the way was a grand and large white dragon; easily as big as the tree Colin had been in.

"Malfoy." He spat.

"There was only one cannon." Pansy said, "It was Colin. Draco must have…" She snapped her teeth together.

"Did you know?"

Pansy didn't even answer him, which meant that was a 'no'.

"Do we go after them now? They're probably reeling and unprepared for an attack." Pike stood and shook snow from his hair.

"They're fleeing back to their safety net." Pansy said, pointing to where the three were ambling away, "And that took much power from me. I would not be strong enough to break it even if I found it." She shook her head, "No, tonight we bask in at least one victory and a plan thwarted and prepare for tomorrow where no matter what, they're going to die."

THEGREENGAMES

Colin was glad to be of such use as he scrambled up the tree. Besides, he didn't want the position he was in to have to lay on any of his companion's shoulders. Well, he wouldn't have cared much if Hannah went up- they were bonded by situation and not much else- but he'd rather die than see Hermione or Draco risk something like this. They were everything to him now, as important as his brother at home whom he hoped would never have to do this awful game. Besides, it felt terribly familiar to be climbing trees. Almost fun. He remembered in his childhood he could always get the highest of any of his cousins and never was afraid to jump. It was his fearlessness that placed him in Gryffindor. The hat had seen images of him jumping feet away from the ground without hesitating, even thought he broke three different bones on three different occasions. Each time, he just rolled away and laughed.

This was different, since he was carrying items of extreme importance and danger. The knapsack was on his back and he could feel each jolt of it. Hermione had assured him nothing would blow up until he made them, but he was still paranoid. Call him crazy.

Still, that didn't stop him from pulling himself from branch to branch like a monkey, using more muscles than he had this entire game, until he found a broad and study branch nearly all the up at about the point Draco had pointed out as desirable.

He slung the knapsack off, spinning it toward him. He took out the least dangerous material first and affixed the blob to the tree. It was sticky like honey and he just rolled it around in his palms for a couple seconds to make it tacky and the consistency of goo. He almost dropped it once, his hands shaking so hard, but he managed to grab it at the last second. He took his time, because this wasn't something you could muck up and do fast. He knew that the clock of being safe was ticking away with each second but he'd rather do this slow than hurry and have it blow up on him, or worse, not detonate at all.

Once that was on the tree, the took the most time enchanting the ripped piece of fabric that he cupped around the edge of the goo like a shelf and making it magically resistant so nothing seeped between them.

Lastly he took the most dangerous component and it was like a brick of chalk in his palms. He adhered this carefully…so it was touching the edge of the fabric too, but not so that it was pressing up and making an indent or on the sides.

Finally, he paused and reeled back to wipe his forehead…and nothing happened.

Relief flooded through him and he turned and gave everyone thumbs up symbol. He could feel their relief mirrored in him and laughed hard…he'd just set up a bomb. He never thought he'd be doing that.

He put the knapsack back on and was about to climb down when he heard a whizzing sound and dodged with instinct out of the way. An arrow sailed past him, missing him by just a little, and he registered a millisecond of release of a sigh before he realized that in his dodging the arrow had wedged the tip between the two substances…

Colin threw himself from the tree trunk in a ditch effort to save himself. He wished he'd just let the arrow hit him instead. The last people he thought of were Draco and Hermione together, and he never hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew having Colin go was coming but I so didn't want to write it :( Poor Colin! And originally, I was just going to have his sexuality or feelings toward Draco be pretty unnoticed, at least or unsaid and bring it up in a more subtle way later, but hey, if he's dying, he deserves to do SOMETHING for himself. I haven't decided if I think overall he was bisexual or totally gay, but he def has a huge crush on Draco. And I don't think Draco's all too upset about that, as you saw, he's just not into guys...
> 
> I would usually have the next character insert thing here, like Pike, but I went through and wrote all the info I'd already written on the OCs in a notebook during the summer and I use like eight different notebooks and now I'm not sure at all which one it was or where it is...so, that will hopefully be coming next time.
> 
> So, next chapter is the last day of the games. I think it will only be one chapter, because although like two people have to die, it is only two people and therefore not a lot of little Povs of other characters. But that will not be the last chapter OF THE STORY. The story has more to do after the game's end, fear not, probably about four chapters and maybe an epilogue.
> 
> So, yeah. I think that's all I had to say...remember to review even though I'm awful and haven't updated in forever! I promise the next chapter will NOT take that long again, although I'm not going to promise something within the next two weeks because I know that just won't happen likely.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel really bad! I wrote this sometime before Thanksgiving, edited over Thanksgiving break, and then I've literally just had it sitting on my computer since then...finals week? How about finals month? XD

 

"Come on, Hermione. Wake up."

Hermione opened her eyes just a little, enough to see she was still in the snowy arena under her blankets. She felt a bile rise in her throat and pulled herself further under the top of the sleeping bag as the coldness of the air seeped in and mixed with the coldness of her emotions while she registered that Colin too was gone.

"Hermione." Hannah's voice above her was a graveled sigh of aggravation, "Really?"

Hermione pulled herself out a tiny bit from the sleeping bag. "Where's Draco?" She asked with a flat tone.

"He's at the stream, cleaning up. He realized he got cut up a bit even in his dragon form this morning." Hannah said, sitting back on her haunches. Hermione frowned.

They'd returned to the area crying and defeated last night. It had been dark, no one was in the mood to talk, and emotions were strung high so before anyone said something they'd regret they just opted to go to bed. She had seen some scars marring Draco's skin, but he'd been so detached that he'd just curled up on the ground away from Hermione and Hannah- who were sharing one sleeping bag- and Hermione hadn't felt so far from him sine they'd found each other. She took solace in her best friend's arm, and the pair of girls comforted each other in their sorrow.

"We have to plan-," Hannah began to say but Hermione gave a firm shake of her head.

"I'm just…done." Hermione said, devoid of emotion, "I…we…each step forward ends in five shoves back. I'm so tired of loosing people I love. I'm so done, Hannah."

"Well, we can't win if we don't try. Tonight we'll-,"

"Be home? We said that yesterday and then Colin was blown to bits. There's nothing left for his family to burry." Hannah winced at Hermione's sharp words, but didn't disagree, "I can't…I can't do that again."

Hannah was quiet for a second. "So what?" When she spoke, her voice was low and angry, "We just sit and wait for Pansy to kill us one by one?" She demanded, "We sit here like cowards?"

"I don't know, Hannah." Hermione said, disliking the tone her friend was taking with her, "All I know is that we aren't any better than where we started yesterday. We're closer to winning but at what cost?"

"Goddamit, you're Hermione Granger! People are counting on you, people believe in you! They are praying for you win. Not me, you." Hannah said, shoving her friend. Hermione sprung from her sleeping bag, furious.

"I never asked to be famous! I never asked to be this…this symbol." She threw out her hands, "I did what was right and look where that got me? I did what was wrong and I didn't die so what does that say, huh?"

Hannah slung her arm around her chest, which may have been crossed arms if she had her second one, and narrowed her eyes.

"Did you think anyone ever asked Harry if he wanted to be 'The Chosen One?'" She asked quietly.

"And look where that got him. He thought he had to defeat Voldemort so he set out and got himself and our classmates, our friends, killed too." Hermione said, shaking her head, "I'm not blaming him. I'm blaming those that put too much pressure on children." She spat the words out.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she collapsed on the forest ground. In the span of two weeks, nineteen children had been murdered. Nineteen souls that should have grown up and gotten married and had children that they would send to Hogwarts just like their own parents had done. And since the invention of that game, that number was now well over 100. A whole handful of empty chairs in classrooms, gravestones with dates that were far too young, and parents that had outlived their offspring. She realized now that even if she won, she wouldn't really, because she wasn't sure how she could carry her survivor's guilt around with her the rest of her life. She saw Fred, in this moment, so much more clearly.

Hannah watched her for a little bit and slowly sank down beside her. She was wiping away tears. "I haven't let myself think of it, but Merlin, I miss Ernie so much, Hermione." She whispered in anguish, "We were thick as thieves at Hogwarts and to imagine that our children won't play together and we won't send each other Yule cards or vacation with our families in France like we planned is so unreal. I forget all the time he's gone." She said.

Hermione couldn't answer, not at first. When she did, she sounded so aged. "Everything that was my childhood has been killed; Harry and Ron…even Lavender. Or, if not killed, driven away. I'm the only thing left and I feel like that me I used to be is a sad imagination of my own making."

"If we win…we'll honor them, always." Hannah said, "And that's the only way you can go on, the only way they will be remembered is if you do it. So don't win for yourself, win because we owe them this." She said. Hermione looked up, her words striking something inside of her. She gave a slow nod, agreeing.

Draco chose to return not a moment after that. He had a couple fresh scars marring his skin, light pink now since he had done some healing magic to them. She wondered if he could, if he so chose, vanish the completely? Was it too difficult or did he just want reminders of what killed Colin?

"So…your animangus is a dragon." Hannah said, speaking upon the topic they hadn't discussed last night. And it was something to talk about.

"Obviously." Draco said curtly, and Hermione saw he hardly got any sleep from the bags under his eyes.

"So…you never thought to, I dunno, tell us about that?" Hannah asked, narrowing her eyes. It was a logical question. A dragon as big as Draco's was a game-changer.

"Honestly, I hadn't even found my animangus. I had no idea." He said, and even Hannah recognized the sincerity in his voice, "I was just as surprised as you two."

"So…when we go find Pansy…you know this could be all done quickly if you just turn into a dragon and crush her or set her on fire." Hannah said.

Draco looked deeply concerned. "I don't think that will work. You know how you can feel a connection with the animangus? Like, even if I didn't know what mine was, I knew something was in there…somewhere…" He asked, looking at the two girls.

"Yes." Hermione agreed. She could feel her panther pulling on a string, somewhere deep down. It curled about and stalked in her stomach, an ever present reminder of her own power and also her own darkness. Although she didn't want to call it out again, not yet, she felt a connection to it.

"Yeah, I couldn't find mine either, but I get it…there's something deeper there, something I can't even know."

"Exactly. Mine, that connection, it's gone." He said, scowling. Hermione knew he hated to be so useless toward certain magic, since usually he was quite good at most.

"How?" Hermione couldn't help but blurt.

"I don't know. I spoke out loud about it to my dad early this morning, hoping he'd come through with a message, and he did. It could be a number of reasons. Some animangi only come in times of great distress or worry, some are so powerful to summon that it takes eons of coaxing to lead them back if you're not well trained with that sort of transfiguration, and sometimes the animal just won't inhabit you." Draco held out the paper with his father's flourished writing on it, "I wish I could see the books myself, but I don't think it will help us at all. And even if I could, that took almost everything out of me, changing like that. If I did it even once more, I don't think my body would be able to handle when I changed back, and then I'd be just a sitting duck, a dead weight."

"Well, that's not good." Hannah sighed, "Hermione? Your animangus feel like making a reappearance?"

"It's up to me." Hermione said a little sharper than she intended, "I just don't feel comfortable using it yet. I can't control it fully once it's out."

"That's what we need." Hannah said, "We need chaos."

"I don't know." Hermione pulled a sour face, "I just…I don't know if I could differentiate between you and Draco verses Pansy and Pike. I just don't have that sort of pull over it yet. I'm sorry, but we'll have to use other methods."

Hannah scowled deeply.

"We're all intelligent." Draco said comfortingly, "Pansy is too, but Pike isn't. He's average at best. Between the three of us, we wipe the floor on ingenuity on them."

"So…what now?" Hannah asked.

"I'm tired of this. We end it. We go to her." Hermione said.

"Is that…wise?" Hannah questioned, frowning, and underneath it, afraid.

"Other choice is we sit here until she comes to us." Draco scoffed, "She might try to wait us out, keep us here for days…even weeks until we starve or die in other ways." He winced, "I agree with Hermione."

"But she could Avada us right away if we're just out in the open."

"I bank on that she'll want it to be a bit more personal." Draco said, "She wants to kill Hermione brutally, we know that much. She'll probably offer me one last chance to join her. She'll want to pick you off first." His words were blunt, but true.

"She tried to kill us all with the arrow." Hannah was still arguing, "And that wasn't personal."

"And that didn't work, and she was unsettled after it. I could feel it. That's not her style." Draco continued to argue, "We're going out, so I suppose you can stay here by yourself or come with." He crossed his arms. Hannah finally gave a long shake of her head.

"Fine." She snapped angrily, "You two win. I swear to god if this gets me killed I'm coming back as a ghost and haunting your asses for the rest of eternity!"

"That's fair, Hannah." Hermione said, patting her shoulder, "I'm glad you decided to come." Hannah frowned at her.

The packed up their things quickly, with the hope they'd never have to come back to it again. They stuffed everything non important in Hermione's beaded bag and carried their weapons in their palms, not going to be caught off guard for a fight. Hermione had her dagger, Draco had an array of potions tucked into his belt loops, and Hannah had something that looked like an ax. She'd been practicing with it lately, trying to figure out how to balance herself now that she was missing an arm. So far, she was still clunky with it, but she was determined and that almost made up for it all.

The three of them tried to ignore the absolute freezing coldness of the unending snow that pounded down in the forest around them, going to the middle of the area where they'd all began. Draco led and Hermione noticed he was very careful not to go anywhere near where Colin had died, even though the destruction covered a wide berth. Hermione and Hannah exchanged glances when they realized why he veered so abruptly, but neither said anything.

They stood in the center of the clearing, backs to each other. Hermione felt Draco's hand slip within her own, and she gave him a soft squeeze. He didn't look all the way at her, but his face tilted a tiny bit and he gave the most reassuring smile he could muster.

"So…do we call upon Pansy's dark and evil forces now? Can she be summoned by a demonic chant?" Hannah asked, tapping her foot with anxiety.

"Something like that."

Draco was concentrating hard and Hermione saw beads of sweat perspiration on his forehead. She let her magical guard down and realized Draco was reaching out to poke Pansy's magic, goading her. It was a dangerous game. But nothing was ever achieved by sitting civilly.

In the winter snow, the three waited for her to respond.

* * *

 

Pike hadn't slept at all. After screwing up and only killing Colin, he was terrified that Pansy would kill him in his sleep. She'd assured him over and over that they would have won, but Draco being able to turn into a dragon was something they could have not foreseen. She whispered softly to him, that they were so close, that they had almost made it.

That night, she almost seemed human. She'd whispered her memories about being at Hogwarts, at living with her parents at the Parkinson estate. She'd whispered about Daphne and Blaise and how she missed them, and once out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw them hovering as ghosts.

He wasn't convinced this was just some elaborate plot to get him to relax before she killed him, but it was interesting nevertheless to see her so open. He didn't think her sharing such intimate information was weakness, but strength. It took power to know what of your past could be manipulated and what couldn't and when to let people in.

He talked about his family, about his mother that had never been around, about his sister. When he talked about his sister, and how maybe that was the only person he'd ever loved in a true way (although he didn't speak that much out loud) Pansy's face almost turned soft.

He wondered if they were recording this. He wondered if Fern would ever hear him speak of her. He wondered if she knew how much he cared for her, how grateful he was to her. He wished he'd told her. Pansy mused that she sounded pretty great, and that although her family was less than desirable, she'd often wished she had a brother or sister. Finally Pansy had yawned and curled up a bed of moss underneath herself.

She'd slept, he had not.

In the morning, he watched as Pansy snapped awake, jumping up.

"What?" He asked.

"Draco…" Her face was contorted into an emotion he couldn't place, "He's…reaching out to me…" She said, confused.

"You think he switched sides?" Pike snorted, doubtful.

"Well, I could see him playing them the entire time, you know. He is a Slytherin." Pansy said, standing and shaking off a couple leaves. Pike didn't know why she bothered, she still had a thousand other dead leaves plastered to her body, "But I'm not passing judgment yet. I think this is their end, Pike. Are you ready?" She asked.

He nodded at once, standing up and grabbing his quiver. He was eager to prove his worth to Pansy. If Hannah was still alive, that's whom he'd go for.

Pansy took no weapons but he understood she didn't need too. Weapons would be useless to her right now.

They came into the clearing and saw the three of them, standing in a circle, facing out and ever scanning. Pansy lurked behind the shadows, deep in contemplation.

"They're calling to us to fight them." Pike said, "They're not waiting around."

"They're foolish. They cannot win. We are stronger." Pansy decided.

"So we're attacking them?" He asked happily. Pansy grinned.

"Of course. We'll be out of here by noon, Webber." She put a hand on his arm, a confusingly gentle and soft gesture, "We'll win…both of us…we just need to defeat them." She whispered.

"I'm ready." He said, pulling his arrow back to make the first move. Pansy smiled wickedly.

* * *

 

All across the wizarding world, the towns stopped. The entirety of wizards and witches everywhere were watching because everyone knew this was the finale of this season of the Green Games.

The Weasleys, The Grangers, and any child that had loved the friends that had died or that were still fighting were crammed into the Burrow, silent and shaking. There was nothing that could be done. No more packages could be sent out. Fred was caught between being able to watch and not being able to watch. Cedric was there with him, and he was just a ball of anxiety that no one could calm.

The Malfoys watched in the empty Manor, along with the parents of Blaise and Daphne who were rooting for the Malfoy heir.

Pansy's parents were absently paying attention with the game in the background while they had a lunch with some relatives.

All the pubs were packed to the brim with silent viewers. Those that knew how to take advantage of a situation were taking bets of galleons now about who would be the winners.

All businesses and stores were closed, and people gathered on the street with their little screens. There wasn't a person doing anything but really watching the game.

In the control room, even Voldemort was watching the game with a look of interest on his face.

"Sir?" Davies asked, "Should we intervene?" He asked, motioning to the two figures of Pike and Pansy waiting to attack the trio that had sought them out.

"No." Voldemort said, waving a hand and taking a chair, "We shall see how this plays out. I think it's going to be quite a show."

"Of course sir."

* * *

 

An arrow came zipping through the air. The circle tensed and Draco waved his hand and it splintered into a million pieces. A second one came. Hermione called out and battered it away with a simple charm. They pressed closer together, backs rubbing against each other's backs, scanning the forest.

"There!" Hannah was the first to spot it. Out of the woods came Pike, casually walking towards them as though he was taking a stroll through the woods to have a picnic. He waved at Hermione, who shook her head with disgust.

Draco was intensely rigid, eyes searching. He was sweating more than ever.

"I can't pinpoint where her magic is coming from. She's near though." He whispered through gritted teeth, and at his words the moth fowl smell Hermione had ever had the displeasure of experiencing came wafting towards them. Hannah retched a little in her mouth, and they watched in horror as slowly Pansy rose from the dead foliage underneath them, right up close.

Hermione only had a moment to look upon her absolute horrifying figure, gaunt and more skeleton like than human, before Hannah let out an unearthly scream. Hermione whipped her head around and saw her on the ground, one of her bones in her legs nearly sticking out of her leg. Pansy's fingers clenched in a fist and it broke more.

Hermione didn't even think as she leapt forward into action, but was stopped by Pike who swung a sword at her, so close that it cut off a few stands of her hair as she lunged backward.

"Pike." She acknowledged, dodging another one of his swipes. He saw Draco going after Pansy and although Hannah was in pain, she was trying to move out of the way, an anger burning so deeply within herself that Hermione was almost afraid.

"Hermione. Deepest apologies, but only one of us…" He motioned between the two of them, "Is going to get out of here. You gotta understand it has to be me." He said.

Hermione grabbed her dagger from her boot, playing defense more than offense and parrying away from his unexpectedly well-aimed strikes. She tried to bring forth a couple spells, and a couple hit their mark, tearing chunks from his flesh and burning other parts away to a bubbly sticky mess of skin. He got a couple hits on her too, but they both fought with ferocity. She understood; this fight was it. They had to give it their all because whoever won would be free of this. There didn't need to be another fight after this, another push.

She threw a tickling spell at him, which was much more effective against an opponent in war than one would think. It just grazed him, but it was enough to send Pike into a fit of giggles and make his sword work unsteady. She threw an Avada at him, but he deflected it with his sword, which crumbled into dust after being hit. His giggles subsided and when she tried to throw another one at him, he was ready and rolled away through the snow.

Quick as a flash, he took out an arrow and had loaded it and shot it at her before she could stop it. It embedded itself into her shoulder, enough to make her scream in pain, but not enough to slow her down. With great difficulty and agony, she snapped the end off, leaving just the arrowhead stuck in her skin so the shaft wouldn't be a disturbance during the rest of their fight.

She threw a nasty scar at him, and it got his ankle. Blood gushed from his leg and he stumbled forward. She almost got out of his way, but from the corner of her eye, she saw Draco's cheek bleeding as he fell to the ground, battling Pansy who had batted him away like an irritating fly. It was only a millisecond of a pause, but that was enough. As Pike fell, she saw a nasty gleam in his eye and as he grabbed onto her with his left hand, she felt him gathering every bit of magic within him to whisper a spell Hermione had never heard.

_"Sectumsempra."_

It felt as though Hermione was being split open, stomach to neck. She stumbled back, and couldn't even make a sound as she fell to the white earth, staring up at the sky. She looked down at herself and saw blood flowing from her chest in spurts, and her own hands tried in vain and in shock to patch it with her hands, shakily touching along her ruptured skin.

She knew that this was the worst wound she'd ever gotten. She rolled over, trying to reach for her bag, but Pike kicked it away from her. She must have made a pitiful sound because Draco turned back, sheer horror painting his face.

"Hermione!" His cry was the most anguished thing she'd ever heard. Hannah was lying supine on the ground, and if Hermione had not heard a cannon, she would have assumed her dead. Pike stood back, enjoying his handiwork, glancing back to Pansy for approval. Draco tried to reach her, but Pansy sashayed in front of him.

She saw Pansy lift Draco's chin with a finger seductively, close to his face.

"Draco," She crooned, "Don't you see you've picked the wrong side? Don't you see that this is all for naught? Dear, you can still win. We all three can win. Three Slytherins, it's meant to be. We can leave this place and go on together, you don't even have to be with me." She purred.

"Pansy, you are the most vile person I've ever met. I didn't love you at Hogwarts and I don't love you now. But it's not love you want, it's control. You want to control me in your fingers, hold me under your thumb. And I'd rather die with Hermione than win with you." He said.

Pansy's whole face darkened and Hermione saw her body turn more monstrous at his words. It was as though she had finally realized that Draco would never want her.

"So be it, then." She said, shoving him back. As he stumbled, roots shot out of the ground up to greet him. Hermione watched in horror as they wrapped around his neck, shoving the air from his lungs. It twisted around his arms and legs so violently that blood seeped from under the bonds. It was like the earth was swallowing him whole.

Pike tapped Pansy shoulders, leaving her to turn to him with a curious expression.

"I thought you'd like to do the honors." He said, motioning to Hermione. The look of joy on Pansy's face was likely the closet Hermione had ever seen to actual happiness.

"Fuck you, Pike! Fuck you-." Draco's voice cut off as a rope slithered around his mouth, gagging him.

"Oh, Pike…" Pansy whispered, and it was though she was seeing him for the first time. Pike looked like he had seen god and he found it beautiful. It was like he was seeing the sun for the first time.

"Oh, Pike, you have proven yourself…we will win this together. We will be the most powerful couple out there." She whispered.

"Really?" He asked, taking a step forward.

"Absolutely." She whispered, and Hermione saw her façade flicker until she looked normal again.

She took one hand tentatively and touched his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and she stepped forward like a shy schoolgirl. Her other hand came up and knotted in his hair. He looked about ready to cry with joy, like he was being given the most expensive gift in the entire world.

Slowly, her hands rested on his cheeks as her lips came down slowly. Pike closed his eyes, waiting for her kiss of truth to assure him. Close enough to his lips so that if he flinched their lips would touch, Pansy opened her eyes and violently snapped his neck.

Pike's body hit the floor as the cannon sounded.

Pansy stood back, flicking into her lich form. She sneered in disgust as she wiped her hands off, as though trying to get the 'love' of Pike from her. Hermione felt her vision hazing in and out. She knew she was loosing a lot of blood. Being on her stomach, pressing herself in the ground helped, but she didn't think she'd make it much longer.

"Who to kill first?" Pansy questioned, finger on her cheek, "I think the Hufflepuff. The worst and most pathetic house, I can't fathom how you made it this far. Because I want you two…" She motioned to Draco and Hermione, "To suffer." She turned around, approaching Hannah.

Hermione looked at Draco, nearly engulfed in the ground. Hermione felt her fingers weakly clench against her dagger. If they only had a moment more, just one moment they could-

Time!

Hermione fingers shakily began touching along her jacket. She'd thrown in the last of Fred's vials this morning, not thinking much of it. This could give her a second of time! She might kill herself in the process, but if she could stop Pansy and save her friend and the love of her life, she'd find it worth it. Maybe that's why she was sent back, so Draco and Hannah could live?

She found the vial. Fred had told her only to use a little, and she knew this was very early testing and didn't know the consequences of any of it, but all of that be damned. With as much effort as she could muster, she shattered the glass against the ground, feeling shards of the glass vial embedding itself into her palms. The liquid seeped from it, disappearing into the snow.

For a second, nothing changed. There was no time stop and Hermione feared that her last act would be a dud from Fred. She didn't blame him, not everything could go perfectly. She wished she could speak to Draco one last time.

Then, the world around her buzzed and faded in a peculiar way. She wondered if this was it. Was this the world stopping?

She felt someone helping her to her feet. She couldn't see who it was, but she could feel and she knew instinctively that it was Seamus. Was she dead?

But this wasn't death, as she looked around. Instead, time had paused…and then, most strangely, it had begun to spin backwards and she was the only one aware of this.

She could feel magical signatures, so many that it bombarded her with memories. She felt Harry, Ron, Luna, George, Charlie, Colin, Justin, Elizabeth, Lavender, Cho…everyone. She felt the entirety of everyone she missed shoving against the laws of nature pushing her back in time, fighting against everything the world told her she shouldn't be able to do without a time-turner. She couldn't see a single ghostly figure but she knew it was all of them and tears streamed down her face as she fought with them, as they guided her through the dangerous waters of playing with timelines.

She wondered how far back they were taking her. In her most fevered and wildest dreams, she imagined they'd take her all the way back, and she'd wake up the night before Harry launched his attack and they'd all be alive again. Instead, they took her back moments before Pike was killed. And she could feel their apologizes that this was as far back as they could bend time, no easy feat to begin with. She reached out, wondering if she could kill Pansy here, but found herself shoved away from her. She approached Pike and realized she could touch him. She had an idea.

She reached out tentatively, and touched Pike who was reaching toward Pansy, waiting for the kiss that would never happen.

"Pike…" She whispered and he snapped awake, blinking in wonderment around the frozen world around him.

"What the hell?"

"Pike, when time starts up, in like ten seconds, Pansy will kill you." She said, trying to sound strong.

"What?" Pike stepped back, "Impossible…she's about to kiss me…You're just angry that I helped kill you." He said distrustfully.

"I'm not dead, yet." She said, grabbing his arm and staring into his eyes. With effort and a weird sense of backward legilimency she shoved her memory of her thoughts of the future when she saw Pike fall to the ground.

His eyes widened in horror and he gasped, touching his neck as though he could feel her fingers grasping around them.

"But she…"

"Pike, she's been using you. All she'll ever want is to be the sole victor. We both know that no matter what, she's going to kill you when time starts back up again. Don't let yourself be a pawn, help us." She pleaded.

"Why should I? If I'm still going to get killed?" He asked, shaking his head in shock. He seemed less confident than all the other times, more like a scared sixteen-year-old.

"Because if it's one thing that I've learned about Slyherins it's that you exist and feed upon spite and revenge. Don't you want to do something to help us kill Pansy to get back at her for killing you?" And deep down, Hermione knew that Pike wasn't all bad, as much as she hated admitting it. Yet, she thought the allure of revenge might be just enough to sway him. She could see him thinking, see his face darken with anger and betrayal as he looked back at the frozen Pansy. She could see his loyalty shifting; not to Hermione's side, but his own. And that, she figured, was good enough. But he wasn't there yet.

Pike seemed almost convinced.

"When this is over, I promise I will do my best to clear you name, make you a hero. Even if your reasons for helping us win aren't noble, the action is good. The world won't see this, they'll just see you defect to help us. I can help your family, bring you fame and glory."

"I don't want that." Pike said, surprising himself. Hermione frowned, up until this point that seemed to have been what drove him.

"Then what do you want?" She asked.

He paused, and she saw tears gathering in his eyes, "I want to live…"

Hermione shook her head. "Sometimes we can't get what we want." She whispered. She didn't dare tell him she didn't think she'd live past this either. The world began to fuzz around them, "Pike, you don't have time, you have to decide no-," Her words were cut off as she was flung back to the place that she was when Pike and Pansy were in that position moments ago.

She saw Pike's eyes were still closed, but she now saw the way he tensed with his newfound knowledge. She was terrified he wouldn't do what she hoped he could do, that he'd still be seduced by Pansy and let himself be killed all over again without doing anything.

Pansy's hand reached up to touch his cheek, and she began to reach down.

Hermione saw her hands go to his neck, but then Pike's eyes snapped open.

"You almost had me fooled, Parkinson. But not quite enough." He said, and then with incredible force and magical power Hermione didn't know he possessed, shoved an arrow he'd been holding through her chest and while she cried grabbed hold of her magical powers and whispered something in latin. Hermione watched as he absorbed her power until he couldn't hold it anymore and he exploded in a burst of light and darkness. His cannon sounded a second time.

Pansy didn't look quite as terrifying with half of her power drained. She turned, enraged to Hermione.

"I don't know how you got to him, but I am still strong enough to defeat you like this." She snapped, "And I will make you suffer it all." She said, and like last time turned to Hannah.

She felt herself loosing quickly. She knew she wasn't going to survive this. But Draco…Draco should be able to.

She threw out her power, finding his magic like a breath of fresh air that smelled like pine trees and beaches- and connected hers to his which was desperately trying to break free of this magic.

"Hermione…no…" He whispered in horror, feeling her own power link to his. She shoved all she had. She would save Draco if it were the last thing Hermione ever did.

* * *

 

Draco struggled against the roots. They were incredibly powerful and oozing with dark magic like sap from an oak tree. He watched in confusion and relief as Pike did the transfer ritual. It was one all Slytherins knew of recent times-taught by the Durmstrang children that came in- as they were almost all trained in rituals by each other. There was a reason it was almost never used…the influx of power, good but especially bad, usually couldn't be held by the spell caster and would result in their immediate death. There had been three or four cases where the caster hadn't died, but those wizards had been masters and hadn't kept the power within them longer than an hour. Draco couldn't understand how Pike suddenly went from battling them…to helping him?

Pansy now looked smaller without most of her leafy battle armor. She still had some, but not as much as before. He felt her magical signature drop significantly and become less obvious. She was extremely weakened, although she didn't show this to Hermione. He couldn't even see Hermione, but he knew that she didn't have long.

Then, most unexpectedly, he felt her magical signature trying to find his. He felt it latch on and then he felt her seeping any power she had left to him.

 _Escape…live for us…_ The words came through her magic and he shook his head in horror, breaking free from the gag.

"Hermione…no!" He said, trying to resist it, but found that she was too persistent to let him drop it.

He broke free from the roots, gasping for breath and rubbing his scarred arms and legs. He was bleeding everywhere…and he was the only one in any position to help.

Pansy was approaching Hannah. If she killed Hannah, the game would theoretically be over. But Draco knew that even before the copters ever got here, she would have killed both of them already.

Hermione slumped on the ground, eyes closing and lay unmoving. He could still feel her magical signature pulsating so quietly. If she were mortal, she'd be dead. Her magic was fighting to keep her alive, and even that was slipping quickly.

He stood with the most impossible choice he'd ever faced, the worst crossroads he ever thought he would come across.

If he went and saved Hermione, or tried to, Hannah would be killed. Pansy would kill Hermione next or Draco. Well, they'd both be dead. Draco knew he couldn't take Pansy by himself and do enough to contain her.

Yet, if he did nothing, Pansy would win. He knew the only way that he could save everyone was to kill her. Yet if he killed her, he would never be a healer again, never get to do what he loved. And if he went to kill Pansy now, Hermione…the person that he couldn't imagine living without…would undoubtedly die. If he waited to kill Pansy until he'd seen if he could help Hermione, and he wasn't even sure if anything could be done, Hannah would die and if Hermione survived she'd never forgive him and he'd be back at the conundrum that Pansy would still likely kill them both anyway.

Draco had all the choices in the world but couldn't pick a single one.

If he chose neither, both would die and then he'd be all alone with Pansy as a victor. He couldn't imagine a worse outcome. He imagined Pansy might keep him alone as a punishment and make his suffering living in a world with Hermione.

Above him, a package twinkled.

Frantically, he reached up, grabbing a box that was almost as big as he was. He pried at the lid, knowing that no one would be sending something right now if it weren't a game changer. He couldn't get the lid off. He grabbed Hermione's dagger from her clammy palms, and could feel she had a minute…maybe…before even her magic couldn't keep her alive. He pried the top off, but looked up to see Pansy above Hannah, ready to kill her.

With all his strength, he lobbed the dagger at her, and it imbedded itself in her back. She turned, crying out in pain now that her defenses were gone and began to walk toward him. He was running out of time as his fingernails were torn as he pried the lid off. The first thing was a note, which he didn't even read but crumpled in his fingers. The second thing in the box was the sorting hat and he felt about it, but found it useless, and threw it to the side. Next was another lid and he unlatched it and-

-a giant snake leapt out. Draco scrambled back on the snow, watching as a green viper almost as big as he was in width and longer than him in length slithered on the snow directly toward Pansy. Pansy threw some spells at it, but it avoided it with movements that were almost unbelievable. It latched forward, grabbing onto her leg and sinking its fangs deep into her leg. She screamed, the most painful sound she'd made yet, shaking her leg to try to free the beast but it just wrapped around her and like a vice and wouldn't let go, unclenching and biting her a second time on her arm.

She fell to the snow, grasping at the places where the snake bit her, and he watched the snake slithered into the forest. She was wailing slowly, and looked up at Draco with such a look of betrayal, raising her hand.

"Avada ka-,"

Her head dropped into the snow, disconnected from her body. Her body stayed rigid for a second before slumping forward, blood seeping from her neck.

Draco didn't believe this was true until he cannon sounded.

He looked up to see Hannah, breathing heavily, who had dragged herself from where she'd been lying. She left a trail of blood behind her, but she looked so triumphant. She spat at Pansy.

"You didn't take my arm, but this one is still for that and all the pain you caused. That was for Colin and Ernie and all my friends you've taken." In her hand was the most beautiful sword Draco had ever seen, and she held onto it like if she didn't she would die. Draco was impressed she was able to swing it with only one hand, but it seemed perfectly balanced for her.

"I thought you were done for." He whispered.

"Playing possum." She shrugged, but her eyes still looked haunted. It seemed only now she registered her pain and fell back on the snow, sucking in air between her clenched teeth as she tried not to roll onto her leg which was completely not the right way.

"Where'd you get that?" He asked, eyes focusing on the sword. Hannah frowned in confusion.

"The sorting hat…how did you miss it?"

Draco was about to argue there defiantly hadn't been a sword in that damn thing, he would have known, but then he remembered Hermione.

As he tripped though the heavy snow toward her, over Pansy's body, the world above them stopped snowing and the sky darkened.

_"The Winners of this Years' Green Games; Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and Hannah Abbott!"_

Draco reached Hermione, turning her over and seeing her whole face pale and lips already blue. A deep scar left her innards almost outside her body, and he wondered what sort of awful spell could inflict so much damage. He wondered if there was anything anyone could do to save her. But, he'd saved her once from death and she'd saved him from death. More impossible things had happened.

"No…no…c'mon! Hermione! You can't die, Hermione!" He cried, pressing his lips to hers, "C'mon, this worked for me, it will work for you…please."

Hannah dragged herself by him. She watched with tears growing in her eyes as Draco tried to press against the wound, blubbering, begging her to come back.

Around them, helicopters landed in the clearing. A team of Mediwitches jumped out, pushing Hermione onto a cart. Draco stood, trying to follow.

"I'm sorry, but we have to take her now to save her, you can't come." One of them said.

"No! Hermione! Let me through, let me be with her. If she dies, I need to be there!" He said, but three or four burly men grabbed him and shoved him into a second copper. Hannah was helped into that one as well, and he shook his head in shock.

Hannah's head had lolled, exhausted, and a medi-witch on the plane with the two of them began to check her vitals. One worker put a blanket around Draco's shoulders, congratulating him. He hardly heard it. Draco was the only one mostly unharmed, although he refused to be checked on his still bleeding scars from the roots just yet, staring out the chopper window and watched Hermione's chopper vanish in the distance.

Only when he clenched his fists did he realize there was still a piece of paper between his fingers. He expected a note from his father, maybe, or even the Preferred Weasley.

What he saw instead was possibly the last thing he ever had expected to see, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it or what this would mean, going forward.

In impossibly perfect handwriting, the note read:

_There is no place for those in my world for those that try to break the rules_

_-T.M.R_

* * *

 

When Hermione saw the familiar train station again, she turned around excitedly, expecting to see Harry, or maybe even Ron. If she had died- and at this point, she was fairly sure that was the case- she would be happy have one of them there to meet her.

Instead, there was an older figure. Her heart dropped a little, but not because it wasn't who she was expecting.

"So, the rumors are true. You really are dead…" Hermione whispered, sitting next to the gentleman, feeling her bottom lip tremble.

"Is that what this is?" Dumbledore asked, "I've been curious for ages now."

"Yeah, Harry was here before…" She looked down, wanting to ask him a million questions at once, such as how a man as great as Albus Dumbledore could die when the world really needed him, among many others.

"How peculiar," Was all Dumbledore said, chuckling, "In any case, I called you here on quite selfish reasons."

"Called me here?" Hermione scowled, shaking her head, "But I came here, because I'm…"

"Dead? Me, perhaps, but you…certainly not. I apologize if it brings up some bad memories, this place, since it seems you've nearly passed through before but when I saw your subconscious floating around I summoned you to meet with me while your body rests."

"I think I just won the Green Games," Hermione said.

"I don't think anyone ever doubted you would." Dumbledore said, "Ah, yes, you were always the brightest of the students." Although it was praise Hermione had heard a million times, her cheeks still flushed at his kind words, "And…I hear you're quite the impressive wizard in your own right." He said.

"Maybe…" Hermione was unsure. She'd done a lot of things she wasn't proud of, and equally many things she wasn't sure she could do again.

"Well, shall we test it?" Dumbledore said, standing, spryer than she'd ever seen him, "Oh, come now. Have some fun."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle and stood, brushing off her jacket. She realized she didn't have her wand in this vision, but she wasn't concerned.

"Wandless magic…I had hoped to have been able to teach you, but I wish they weren't learned under such circumstances." He observed her raised hand, "Can you…throw up a protection spell?"

He threw something red at her, probably a stinger, and Hermione on instinct threw up her protego. The spell bounced harmlessly off it. Dumbledore's eyes glimmered.

"Impressive, yes…a patronus?"

Hermione thought of Harry's mop of hair, Ron's freckles, Luna's laugh, Draco's kiss, and Seamus' calloused hands and her lion leapt around, purring like a giant cat and curling itself around Dumbledore before fading away.

"It must have been quite the happy memory." Dumbledore said, observing the strength of it.

"It was." She agreed.

"How about…disarm me?" Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand.

"Sir?" She frowned, chuckling.

"Just to see, m'dear. I won't make it easy on you." He said, holding up his hands. She threw a simple disarming spell at him, but he easily blocked it. She wanted to see herself if she could, and it took throwing a giggling hex (for, she didn't want to harm Dumbledore) to leave him indisposed while his wand flew right into her hand. When she stopped the hex, Dumbledore looked at his wand in his hand and nodded.

"Yes, you are far beyond your years. What war has done to you," He said, almost ruefully, "I think our time is up. You're being slowly brought back into the world." Even as he spoke, he began to fade away, "And dear, when you go back, I'd check inside your Games outfit." He said, tapping right near his heart, which confused Hermione. But, before she could ask, the world around her fizzled to black.

Hermione didn't remember anything when she woke up. The world around her was white and the first thing she registered was a needle poking into her skin and that she was on a hospital bed. She frowned, looking down and saw a scar starting at the base of her throat going underneath her gown. Then she remembered the end…Pike's curse, going back in time, trying to save Draco…had this meant they won?

She recalled she dreamed about Dumbledore. What a strange dream, she thought to herself.

She was about to call out for someone until she noticed she was not alone in this room. There was a man sitting, waiting for her to awaken in one of the chairs in the medical room, watching her with a curious intensity. She felt a chill go down her back and straightened up, because she knew who she was in the presence of, even if his face looked to be about her age, his red eyes gave it all away.

Lord Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOW WAS THAT FINAL BATTLE? Thoughts?
> 
> Yes, I wanted to make it clear that although they've won, this is not the end! I predict about three more chapters left to tie up loose ends. I have a rough outline of what I want to happen, but I think I'll have some space left. So, is there anything you really want to see in the aftermath?
> 
> In other news related to this, I made an aesthetics board for this story awhile ago, posted it on my dA. That's what's here in the start of the chapter! One day, I'll move it to the first chapter. 
> 
> For those of you that loved Seamione and want more, I've started a Seamione one-shot :) I'm very excited about it and I hope you all will too!
> 
> In last news, I've started watching The Walking Dead (I never jump on bandwagons when they're hot...if that made a lick of sense). I think my heart is pre-designed to start shipping characters that will only give me heartache before I even know it. Actually, what am I saying, every ship on that show is a tragedy.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAHAH it's been too long. Basically, what took so long (among just needing to take a break from this, otherwise everything I posted woulda been shit) the plans for the rest of this story are just like one big lump of things so I wasn't sure how to break it up. I at first wanted to write ALL of it and then see how long it was, but in the end, I'm basically just going by every 20 pages, I post a chapter. So, if the ends of these last few chapters don't feel final, that's sorta why, it's more like a continuation from event to event.

"Lord Voldemort," Hermione said softly in shock, quickly dipping her whole body the best she could to bow before him, not wanting particularly to get hexed to death after winning.

She wished she didn't have to bow. If Hermione had her way, she would spit at his feet. She would refuse to bend her body in such a way towards him. She would do every terrible thing that these Games made her do to others. She would kill him and make him suffer.

But at the moment, Hermione was in no condition to battle a pygmy puff, much less Lord Voldemort. So, despite every bone in her body screaming in protest, trying to pull her into a stanch and rigid position, she bowed.

"Hermione, how does it feel to be a winner?"

Hermione lifted her head to see he recognized her act of submission, a cold victory glinting in his eyes. But from his smirk and his stare, Hermione knew that his question was pointless. There were no winners in the games, unless you were him. Everyone else was just touching upon it for a second.

"I'm glad to be alive." It wasn't an answer to his question, per sey, but it seemed to satiate him for the time being, for he nodded and didn't press further. She was pretty sure he knew that she knew that this balance between them was precarious, as it was with all winners. She was astute enough to want to keep herself living past all this, preferably to an age where she didn't have to live under his terror. She would bide her time.

He seemed to hover, almost unsure what to say. She knew that wasn't quite it though, since there was no reason to mince his words around someone he had so much more over. So, she bit.

"Are you merely here to offer your congratulations?" She asked, moving her hands to her lap. As her left hand glided underneath the bed sheets, it rolled over something long and stick-like. She tried not to make a noticeable startle as she found it, and hoped she looked just as she had a moment before as she slowly drug the item to her lap, using the layers of the itchy blankets to hide it's shape.

Her fingers slid over it. It was knobby and made from wood. It almost felt like…a wand. But it wasn't her wand, she knew so much. She would have recognized her own from the start. She knew in the back of her mind there was something achingly familiar about it, although she couldn't put her finger on it. She would have to wait until he left to investigate with her eyes. She had a feeling, a voice in the back of her head, telling her to not let him see whatever this was.

"I want to know," He finally said, crossing his legs and leaning in, "How you cheated death?"

"How I cheated death?" Hermione frowned. She took her right hand and it unconsciously traced the scar that peeked over her hospital gown, "I honestly thought that moment was the end there. I don't know how I didn't die. I think I should have." She said, looking down. Her whole chest was covered in the beginning stages of bruises and the scar from Pike's damage was still tender and irritated around the edges. She had lost so much blood.

"Not that," He snapped angrily, "I fixed you now." He said and as she examined his hands, she could see underneath his fingernails the traces of blood, "Couldn't have our fan favorite perishing right after she won, after all." His voice was heavy with taunting. He didn't save her because he was a good person; he saved her because it was more prosperous for him for Hermione Granger to stay alive.

"Oh, thank you." The words felt strange coming from her lips, thanking this sort of person. Yet if it weren't for him, she wouldn't be here. She was raised right by her mama, no matter the circumstances.

He hardly acknowledged her thanks, instead looked her up and down with a cool fury. "No, I want to know how you survived when Pansy stabbed you. This time, I got to you before your heart stopped. Keeping you alive was hard, sure, but you weren't gone. In that arena, no one saw but you and I both know you were dead for exactly thirty-eight seconds." He said, and hearing it out loud made Hermione freeze up, "I want to know how."

"I…" Hermione frowned. Pansy stabbing her and twisting the knife, falling down the ravine, crushing her hand…it felt like years ago that all happened. Voldmort continued on, irate.

"How did you, a filthy mudblood who I admit has a talent naturally, but by no means should have been strong enough to overcome death? Tell me how you did it!" He came dangerous close and beneath his nearly calm face, Hermione saw within his red eyes a thousand storms bashing itself against a stone. She recalled hearing about his obsession with overcoming death. She'd done the one thing he hadn't been able to do, would never be able to do.

"I don't remember." She found her courage and leveled her chin to his, "I'm sorry, but I just remember it all being black…I remember the pain…I remember waking up, I don't know how. Ask Draco, maybe." She said.

"No, Draco is a talented healer- such a wasteful use of his skill- but even he could not bring someone back when they're already gone. It was something you did."

She knew what was coming before he did it, so she had time to prepare. She felt him probing her mind for answers, harshly and unkindly, breaking through walls in her mind and dragging his nails through her memories. She shoved Seamus dying in front of her to him; she threw the feeling of Pansy's knife slipping between her bones like butter, the agony as she ended up at the bottom of that cliff. She showed him her hazy memories as Colin and Draco carried her back and as they fixed her, and waking up afterwards. The one thing she did not show him, under any circumstances, was seeing Harry and Seamus in the other side. She swallowed those and relieved every awful moment of that night, and would a thousand times over, if it meant keeping this from him.

Finally, he came out of her mind. She slumped forward on the bed, exhausted and her mind was pounding. He sneered at her, but didn't look as though he expected she was hiding something within the shadows of her memory.

"Si-Lord?" She said quietly, fear clutching her, "Is Draco alive? Did we all win? Or did Pansy…" She swallowed thickly. Maybe the reason that he couldn't ask Draco was because Draco was dead, "I thought for sure Pansy would win…" She trailed off herself, unable now to imagine a possibility she didn't.

"Do you wish Pansy to win?" Lord Voldmort asked, something nearly akin to amusement on his face.

"No!" Hermione was quick to shake her head, "That would be awful." Her fingers clenched the sheets of the bed, "But she's so-,"

"Well," He broke in with a grin that made her body shiver, like she was staring directly into the face of a wolf, "Let's just say Pansy was…taken care of." He said with a deep chuckle, one Hermione felt she should be happy about but was mostly just left…terrified.

"Oh," She said in a small voice.

"We're nearly home. You'll need to be more presentable because Rita will be having her after comments. The shower's to the left, and someone will bring you food." He said. Hermione's fingers brushed the object under the sheet and she recalled Dumbledore's pat in her dream-walk.

"Did you take my suit? The one I wore in the games?" Hermione asked, looking around the room. Voldemort paused at the door, confused.

"Why would you want that ratty thing?"

"It's hard to explain," Hermione tried not to sound too eager to get it back, for he would know something was up, "But I lived in it for, Merlin, I don't even know how long this game has been. I hate it, a little, but it's…well, I guess I'm not ready to give it up forever entirely. I think maybe once I'm holding it and I'm dressed…this will be real. That I'm alive will be real." She said. She was shocked to realize that the end was a truthful statement. It didn't feel real now, because she felt as though it could be hidden under her hospital gown and they'd throw her out of the helicopter right back into the games.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"Very well. We will bring up your dirt and blood incrusted suit." From the scrunching of his nose, it was clear he disapproved of her asking, "All for the Victor, of course…" He said mockingly. When Hermione just stared at him, unable to process how to respond to his jab, he left the room in a huff. The door slammed behind him. She sighed in a small relief. She was safe, for now.

She uncovered her lap and her breath caught in her throat. Sitting in her fingers was Dumbledore's wand; the one that she'd unarmed from him in her dream. It was impossible, wasn't it? But then her eyes slid over to the shamrock necklace sitting next to her on the table, and she recalled sometimes things weren't as they seemed.

She didn't understand the overwhelming significance of having this, but Dumbledore worked in mysterious ways and if he wanted her to have it- and went about it so covertly- it had to be important. She clutched it to her as she stood up, wincing in pain from everything, and made her way to the door that was the bathroom.

She opened the door and was faced with a mirror, sink, toilet, and small shower. Yet, this was one of the most welcoming sights she'd ever seen.

She went to the bathroom mirror to splash some warm water on her face, but stumbled back at her reflection. It almost took her a moment to realize the person in the mirror was her.

She knew the games had to take their toll, but other than quick glances in ponds and puddles she hardly got to see herself at all. The face that looked back at her shocked her entirely.

It wasn't even her outward appearance, although this was strange to see. Her cheeks had sunken in and the bones of her face jutted outward. Her eyes had dark bags underneath them and her entire body was covered in little cuts from the explosion. Her hospital gown hung off her body in an unnatural way, because she'd lost so much weight during the games, reducing her skin to be stretched tautly over her bones. She looked like a walking ghost.

Even as she lifted her hands to touch her face, the skin that looked so sallow and uncared for, she could see the burns underneath her fingers, ever lingering. She placed both of her palms face up on the porcelain's sink's edge, frowning at the marred skin.

She looked so awful, she realized. The worst, though, was that when she looked into the mirror and stared back at her own disjointed reflection, her eyes looked so dark. She'd won, yes. She was alive, yes. But there was still that light missing, such a light that she didn't think could ever be quenched. It was just…gone.

Tears filled her eyes and she looked down and away from herself in a sharp movement. She wiped the tears away on the back of her palm, shaking her head. It was hard to imagine a life after right now, she told herself. But it would get better. It had to, it just absolutely had to. She couldn't live with anything else.

When she looked back up, her eyes were hopeful, but dubious. It was enough.

She stepped back so she could shimmy out of her hospital gown completely, get the full view of her scarred body in the mirror. She put the wand on the sink's edge and let the cloth puddle around her feet.

It was equally as shocking. She could count each of her ribs, finger them over like piano keys, and trace the way her body sucked inward. Her legs were lean from constant exercise, perhaps the only good thing to come of this. She followed all her wounds along herself. First, ghosting over the wound that should have killed her, like a zipper starting up at the base of her collarbone and going down almost to her waist. She lightly skimmed all the bruises that polka dotted her body. She felt around the knife scar Pansy gave her. She relished in the fact that despite all these, that her body would never look the same, she was somehow still alive. It was, in all, unimaginable.

She stepped into the shower, letting it fog up and the slightly-too hot water scald her skin. She could turn it down, but she wanted to feel the pitter-patter of little pinpricks of hot water on her shoulders and then run rivets down her back.

She ran her fingers through her hair, flicking out a couple leaves or twigs tangled in nearly impossible knots. She used three rounds of conditioner to free the debris from her hair before she even got to the conditioner.

She watched the dried blood sludge from her body. She almost recalled someone patting her off with a slightly damp sponge, but this was the first time she'd properly showered since before she went in. The last time she was completely wet was when she'd fallen into the underground river, but that had left her with gritty mud in places she didn't think it was possible to get to.

The drain and the area around it was stained a good color of rust. She felt as though she was shedding this impenetrable skin, one she'd built up meticulously throughout the competition, hardening with each person she lost. She knew some of that blood was Elizabeth's, from when she'd held her. Some of it was Ron's. Some of it was Colin's. Some of it was Tracey's. Some of it was Corner's, Blaise's, Justin's. Hell, some of it might even be Hannah's from way back when the camp was first attacked. She hadn't even truly thought about that until now, but she wouldn't have been surprised if she had specks of blood on her, still remaining, from every single contestant in the whole bloody game.

It took four times as long as she would have stayed in any shower regularly to clean herself off completely, while also minding her fresh wound. She stayed in that shower until the water ran off her clear, no easy task. She would think she was fine, then she'd turn and the water would run off her another way, still a dirty brown shade. She went through two whole bars of soap, scrubbing herself furiously. By the time she stepped out onto a nice bathmat and grabbed the softest and fluffiest towel, her skin was red and raw but felt so beautifully clean. It was a concept she had almost lost the meaning of.

She tied a towel around her waist, and stepped out of the bathroom, ringing out her hair with a second smaller towel she found. Next to her bed were a couple things, clearly having been brought in since she'd showered so long. Her fingers were prune-like and she relished the feeling.

Her wand was there, first and foremost. She touched it quietly, but didn't pick it up. It seemed so useless now, since she was getting so good at wandless magic. She wondered why Dumbledore even bothered carrying one around, since he was so proficient at it. She looked at his wand in her hand and frowned; there had to be more to this, she just didn't know it yet. Dumbledore wasn't stupid and he wouldn't carry something around if he didn't need it. She set his wand next to her own.

Food had also been brought it, much better food than she'd gotten at the safe hours, if that were possible. And it was a feast; grilled chicken wrap, bowl of rice, smoothie, milk, water, apples, peanut butter and nutella…it looked so heavenly. But she decided to take care of her hunger after, because what piqued her interest most was her old uniform folded with some clothes to put on now.

She picked it up. It stank, it was bloodstain, torn, and in generally a bad shape. She understood why their first reaction was to throw it out. She tilted her head, looking at it. Nothing special, on first glance.

She held it up to her figure and then took her hand and rolled it over the fabric around the area her heart was. There was a bump. Maybe she'd felt it before and hadn't thought much about it. It was almost easy to miss, one could chalk it up to a zipper somewhere or a bunch in the fabric. Yet when she reached her hand down into the fabric, across the back, she realized it was a solid lump, no bigger than a pebble.

Turning the suit inside out, she noticed a small and impeccably hidden pocket…right above where her heart would lay. It was sewed in after, a little doubled square of fabric to hold…something. Something that had obviously been in there since the beginning and she had failed to notice.

Using her teeth, she ripped through the miniscule needle works, until she had ripped a hole in the top. She stuck two fingers into it and fished out…a stone.

It was one of the most peculiar things she'd come across. Smokey gray in color, nearly the color of London on a particularly smoggy day, and small enough to loose if one weren't careful with it. It had cut sides, smooth and angular, but was broken down the middle. Cracked, seemingly purposely so. Not enough to shatter the tiny stone itself but enough to distort an imagine scratched upon the surface…she hadn't seen it before. It looked like a triangle with a circle inside of it and the rest of the image was lost to the crevice.

It seemed much heavier than she would have expected, and as she closed her fist around it, she murmured her question out loud, "What are you, little stone?"

"Can't you guess?"

Hermione nearly jumped from her skin. She gripped the stone like the intruder was here to steal it, and tugged her towel more snugly over her naked form. She turned, highly irritated, scowling.

"For Merlin's sakes, Fred, I'm happy to see you but could you just knock-,"

She didn't quite finish her berating.

She looked at the figure in front of her, and then back to the area she'd woken up. Perhaps she'd been drugged, although there were no traces of that, but she wasn't positive on anything right now. Or she was asleep. Or she'd been dead this whole time and this was one of those strange sorts of procedural stuff.

She almost could have mistaken the person in front of her for Fred, if she didn't look too closely. But this Fred was younger by a couple years, missing the slight stubble she'd come to expect on his chin. He was leaner, looked like he was hungry. But most telling, his ear was missing…and Hermione Granger recalled vividly watching George's ear hewn off right before he died in the first Games. So, it had to be him. Or, Fred was playing a truly cruel prank.

"George?" She asked tentatively. He gave a small bow. She licked her lips uneasily, bouncing on the heels of her feet.

"Has anyone ever told you that you sound exactly like Fred?" She joked in a small voice. She wasn't sure how to deal with this. What should she say to him? Luckily, George recognized her feeble attempt to diffuse this situation with humor.

"Ah, no, in fact. You're the first one…" He tilted his head toward her, a smile in jest upon his lips.

Hermione sat on the hospital bed. "I have to admit, George, I'm terribly confused. Am I dead? Am I hallucinating? What's…what's going on?" She recalled Harry coming to her during the games, outside of seeing him while she was dying, but that could have been a whole number of things.

"No, you're fine. Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her age, and you haven't figured it out yet?" He asked, and Hermione just stared at him with wide, unsure eyes. He sighed, pointing to where her fist was clenched tightly, "The stone."

"The stone…is doing this?" She asked faintly.

"The call it the Resurrection stone, ya know? It's ancient. Older than Hogwarts. Older than magic, some say. Created by death." George said and Hermione swallowed thickly. This explained…well, quite a lot.

"Are you real, then?"

"I don't quite feel like getting into the metaphysics of it all," George dismissed her question with a wave of her hand, "But, well, yeah. I mean, it's me. All my memories and everything." He tapped his head.

"Can I choose who I bring?" Hermione asked rolling the stone between her fingers. She wished she could see Seamus.

"I don't get a rule book on it. I don't think anyone does, in fact…" George said after a moment, but then continued, "But would you really want to?"

His question confused Hermione for a moment, because if she could see people who had died from this stone…there were so many people she wanted to see. Of course she did, what a stupid question.

But then…if she relied on this too much, she would be caught within the past, always chasing a ghost of someone. And if she found a way to Seamus, she'd always tell herself just one more moment with him, just another time, and then she'd be done. She had a dark feeling that this little stone had caused much sadness and was an addiction to those in the past, and if she weren't careful, it would be like that with her too. It would be all to easy to fall within its veil of comfort.

"No, I guess not." She agreed. If she had known during the games, things might have gone differently, she figured. And in a bad way. She would be calling upon the ghosts as soon as people died, trying desperately to keep their heart with her. Perhaps it was a relief that it had been so well hidden…but why?

"So do I toss it, then? I don't know if anyone should have this…" She said quietly, studying it.

"No!" George's harsh reaction startled her, and she looked up, "No, I mean, there's a reason you have it. It was…His…that was the Marvolo Gaunt Ring and it was a horcrux, but it's much more than that…"

"George," Hermione gave a small whine, rubbing her head.

"I know you don't understand any of this now, it's just a lot of words, but you will. I don't know who else will tell you and I don't know how long this connection lasts, honestly. Just…keep it. Don't use it, but keep it. Can ya do that?"

"Of course," Hermione agreed. When ghosts from the other side came telling you to do something, you didn't just take it as a mere suggestion.

"And…can you tell Freddie I miss him? Miss him like hell?" George asked.

"I'll tell him anything you want me too." She said, nodding in resolution.

"Good, good. Also, tell him that Charlie, Percy, and Ron…they're all good. We're together, we're okay now." At Ron's name, Hermione's heart twisted and it felt like it had thrown itself against her ribcage. She suppressed a sob. Sometimes it didn't hit her that he was gone. Sometimes, it didn't even seem real that Harry was gone either. She would always mourn them, always expect them by her side, she knew this.

"I will."

"And every time he thinks of me, I know he's doing it, and I'm thinking of him too…" George was beginning to fade, "We're all so proud of you, Hermione…" His words echoed around the room, and once again she was alone.

She set the stone down, despite the clawing desperation to pick it up again, connect with another long lost friend.

She found a strip of fabric and wrapped it tightly around the stone until it was just a soft lump in her hand. She would not be tempted. But, she didn't trust it anywhere else but with her.

She set the stone next to her, and viewed the clothes that had been laid out. Comfortable things, thankfully. She didn't know how long they had until they would land, and then she'd be shoved into a very uncomfortable dress and she was not looking forward to that. So, she wasted no time slipping into a pair of soft pants and a sweatshirt, shoving the stone and the wand into her beaded bag, which had been brought up as well. There was a odd sort of humming, something utterly magical, when she placed those two items into her bag. It felt as though something was coming together again. Of what, she did not know.

She didn't let that bag leave her clutched hands.

She crawled back into bed, feeling woozy. She had pretty much died this time too and the idea that she could sleep peacefully now was almost too much. It scared her.

Yet she fell asleep, as her body took her over and did what it needed to do. It only felt like a few seconds later when she was jerked awake.

A nurse was waiting for her in her room when she blinked her eyes open, looking relieved.

"It's good you slept, ma'am. Your body desperately needs it. Sometimes contestants have trouble." She said.

"I'm not sure it will last," Hermione said uncertainly. She felt around in the bed and found the beaded bag, sighing in relief. IF the nurse noticed her strange behavior, she did not comment. Or, perhaps she'd been around too many victors to judge any motion they did.

"We've reached the city, please, come with me." The mediwitch offered her hand. Hermione, still shaky, took it. She limped out the door and blinked into the light. They were in a back alley of somewhere, but she could hear the screams of fans in front of them. It was always a party when there were victors, parties she'd reluctantly taken part in. She could only imagine the party for the victors would be even more ostentatious.

As she turned the corner, the first thing she was Draco pacing frantically.

"Relax! The big one said she was fine-," Hannah sighed, annoyed. She saw Hermione out of the corner of her eye first and her face split into a big grin. They both looked like they'd showered too. Hannah's remaining limbs were all wrapped in gauzy bandages and Draco had little stickers holding cuts all over his face together. Draco's head whipped around to follow Hannah's smile and he let out the biggest sigh of relief she thought a person could have.

She limped a little faster. He met her halfway and enveloped her in the most bone-crushing hug she'd ever had, so passionate he lifted her off the ground for a second.

"Ow…" She winced. Her body was sore, well, everywhere. Draco put her back down immediately, eyes searching hers. Next, it traveled down to her chest where he could see the edge of the scar poking up from her collar. She could see his own scar from his heart wrapping around his neck too.

"We match," She said weakly. He chuckled, shaking his head, and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Don't do that."

"What? Make jokes?" She asked lightly, winding her hands in his.

"No, die." He whispered, "I was sure I'd lost you once again."

"I never once thought you'd died." Hannah said from behind them. Hermione could only laugh, shaking her head at her best friend.

"Draco," She said, reaching up to caress his check, "You know I've survived worst that that."

"I know, I know but…when they took you away, Merlin, you left blood everywhere."

As Hermione was about to answer back, a high-pitched voice carried down the hall that made Hermione's face sour immediately.

"Victors! Come one now," Umbridge said, clacking back into back halls. She eyed the winners, Draco with slight apprehension and for a moment when she looked at Hannah and Hermione, all Hermione saw was disgust, "Well, congratulations." She said, but her voice was tight and Hermione wasn't sure she meant it at all, "We have much to do before your reveal. You all look like you were just in a war! We need to get those faces cleaned up right away," She said, grabbing one of Hannah's cheek sand pinching.

"We were," Hannah replied dryly, but Umbridge hardly seemed to listen.

"Shoo, this way." She said with her hand motion, shoving them down the hall, "Granger, here. Abbott, there. Malfoy, come with me." She said promptly, pointing at doors. Draco's eyes widened at the thought of leaving Hermione, and his grip on her hand tightened. Hermione felt her heart beat a little fast too, the thought of being sent somewhere alone. Even Hannah stiffened.

Umbridge turned, scrunching her nose, "Oh, Salazar Slytherin! You're victors now, no one is going to hurt you. Please, let's hurry." She said, no sympathy in her tone. Reluctantly, Hermione detached her hand from Draco's.

"We'll be fine," She murmured, "We'll be back together on that stage soon enough." She hissed. Draco finally nodded; following Umbridge but took four or five glances behind him.

"Well, here I go," Hannah said, her voice raising a pitch with nervousness as she turned the door handle. Hermione did the same.

"Welcome!"

A group of people who she was sure had been nasty and condescending to her nearly three weeks ago were now grinning at her like she was the Minister of Magic. Two descended upon her immediately, settling her into the chair to wash her hair with magical softening gels. Someone began massaging her feet, another her shoulders. She jumped at their touch.

"Miss Granger, just relax…" The head stylist said, "We're here to wait on you now. Do you not want a massage?" She asked, frowning.

"No, I ah…just didn't expect it." Hermione said awkwardly, not denying their hands felt heavenly. The stylist nodded back to them and Hermione tried not to make more sudden movements.

Two washed through her hair, meticulously combing it and she was sure that they were still finding braches or leaves. Hermione knew she couldn't have gotten them all the first time. Someone went to work on her nails, filing them down and painting a glossy topcoat over them. The main stylist went to work on her face, first massaging her completely and laying little slices of cucumber on her eyes, something Hermione thought only existed in muggle movies.

"Dear, we have much to work with," The stylist said more to herself than Hermione, "But who can blame you? You've been underfed for weeks. We'll do what we can though." Gone were the demeaning comments that had been present before. Now, perhaps after watching it all, the woman…understood. She only seemed soft and perceptive of Hermione's current mental state.

And honestly, even Hermione herself doubted the ability to make it look like she wasn't half-dead.

"Will you hide my scars?" Hermione asked, a timid voice.

"Do you want them hidden? There are certainly glamour spells…" The lady trailed off as Hermione's face puckered. She was remembering Elizabeth.

"I don't…" Hermione began uncertainty.

"I would keep them. It's not a sign of disfiguration, but of strength," the woman said, perhaps the kindest thing she would say to Hermione. Hermione only needed her confirmation and she relaxed.

"Yes, they are a part of me now." She agreed.

Hermione didn't say anything else the entire time. She just closed her eyes and let them work. She didn't have anything else to say to them.

When she opened her eyes again, she didn't see the same person in the mirror. That person in the mirror was too scarily close to the person that stared back at her before the games and she didn't like that. But her scars were still showing, so, it wasn't the same person.

"I believe that means it's my time now," A voice floated from the doorway. Hermione swiveled in her chair to see Madam Malkin standing in the door. The people who had fixed Hermione's face into a presentable façade bowed and left the two of them. Madam was carting in a metal rack that had two zippered bags hanging from it.

"Two?" Hermione asked, her voice rough.

Madam unzippered the first and Hermione saw…the dress she'd worn the first time around.

"That's…it's…" A quiet but strangled question left her lips.

"I told you then you got the choice to keep it. Do you still want it now?" Her question wasn't mocking, not unkind, but gentle. Hermione felt her throat rebel at the thought of wearing that again. It stared back at her, it taunted her.

"No, no, not at all." Hermione said numbly, shaking her head. Madam gave her a quaint smile and re-zipped the bag.

"So far, none have." She said sagely, and Hermione remembered being so shocked that someone could possible say no to such a beauty. The color, that brilliant red, it reminded her of her own hands and everyone and nothing at the same time.

"So, this is what I figured you'd wear out there." Madam unzipped the second bag to show Hermione a gold and white gown, just as stunning as the first, "Red wasn't…"

"Yes." Hermione's voice was strained, "You get it."

There was a momentary silence before Hermione frowned, looking up, "You…you put the stone in my outfit." She said, "Why?"

"Dear, there are some things that can't be answered…" Madam gave a meaningful nod around the room and it was in that moment Hermione was aware that even if the whole world did not see this part of her now, someone always would still. But, she saw Malkin push up her dress robes, just a bit, just enough for that tattoo to peek out again…it soothed Hermione. She had begun to wonder if she'd just dreamt it.

"What should I do with it?" She asked.

"Protect it. But, be aware of it." She said with a pointed look.

"It's a little late." Hermione said with a breathless wheeze, "I've already seen too much with it. It's poison." She was shocked at her own words.

"But powerful," Malkin added, "It's not something…Hermione, you are perhaps the safest with it now."

Hermione scowled, not liking that answer, but accepted it. Malkin helped her zip into the dress, and it was a perfect fit… despite the fact Hermione was sure she was at least a size smaller than the last time she'd seen her, her breasts in particular were feeling a little smaller than usual. She almost asked but, ah, magic.

Outside, Hannah was dressed in a tea-length white and yellow dress. She had a shawl wrapped around her arm that wasn't there, nearly obscuring the fact she was disabled now.

"It's stupid, is what it is." Hannah said as soon as Hermione's eyes fell on it, "Frankly, I want to throw it at the audience, you know? Shove my nub in the cameras. Show 'em all." She said, "But Umbridge already told me that would be 'very unwise'." She mocked in a high-pitched tone.

"Sorry, Hannah," Hermione whispered.

"Whatever, you know, whatever." Hannah replied back, scowling.

The door next to them opened and out stepped Draco, wearing a white and silver suit, his hair perfectly combed and his face shaved and beautiful. He looked so put-together. He looked…like the boy standing on the stage with his father before his name was picked. And his eyes now seemed to hold coldness, one Hermione was altogether unfamiliar with. It was enough to make her wonder if this was the same person she'd started to fall in love with, until his gaze switched to hers and his eyes just melted and a smile spread on his face. Suddenly, he wasn't that old Draco at all. It seemed silly, all things considering.

"Gorgeous," He said, taking her hand and motioning for her to spin around. Hermione felt a rare giggle escape her lips as she did and for a second, she wasn't standing her after winning a competition based in killing. She was at a better Yule Ball. She was at a party. She was at a wedd-,

"Ladies and Gentleman!"

"I'm pretty sure I'm a pacifist after all this, but her voice makes me want to re-think that," Hannah muttered from the bench as Umbridge rounded the corner.

"Ah, well don't you all look just…so lovely." She breathed a sigh of long relief, "Follow me, everyone is so excited to see your big entrance! Now, when you go on, there will be a recap of the games. We used to show reactions of the victors but a couple yeas ago they did away with that, so, well for some of you it might be a relief. Then there will be some questions, simple things, you know. Just answer them and of course, for Merlin's sake, smile! You three a victors now. You're legendary." She said, pushing them toward the entrance to the stage.

Hermione could see Rita warming up the crowd. Hermione's stomach flipped.

"Hey, you okay?" Draco asked, his breath on her neck.

"I don't think I can watch everyone die again," Hermione said honestly. Draco's brow furrowed.

"Then don't. Don't do that to yourself, okay?" He said.

"And now…our victors!" Rita said, waving a wide hand to the backstage and the stage was bathed in light and the crowd's cheering was like thunder.

Everything on the stage was white; the chairs, Rita's outfit, and the lights…it was clean, it was innocence, it was…not them, not what they'd been through. It was like they were being interviewed for a whole other game. There were a line of five chairs, all filled with the previous victors and then three big comfortable looking ones still in the chain but away. They were part of something so much bigger now.

As Hermione came onto the stage, she looked out at the people but couldn't see a single familiar face. So, her gaze swiveled toward the people in the victor's chairs. She could have sworn Fred gave a sigh of relaxation when she stepped out on stage. She saw the way Cedric fidgeted and his whole face just exploded in relief when he saw Hannah. Beside Hermione, Hannah started to shake, her whole face blushed. Hermione wished they could have gotten a moment alone together before this.

Hermione sat in the middle chair, Draco on her left, Hannah on her right.

"Can we get another round of applause for Draco, Hermione, and Hannah? And don't they look just lovely?" Rita asked and the whole crowd broke out in cheers and wolf-whistles. Draco nodded, smiling and waving and Hermione felt so unprepared for this moment. Even Hannah was grinning a forced smile but it looked natural from down there, probably.

"Ah, well, before we get all the juicy details from these stars, let's take a look back at the mountains they had to climb to get here," Rita said. Mountains to climb…killing people, funny way to put it, Hermione thought.

The stage darkened and the screens that had been showing the three of them suddenly switched to a dramatic music montage of the game's highlights, which mostly consisted of deaths. Hermione watched the first few- she watched Wayne and recalled how that was almost she. She watched the sword go through Ernie's chest. She saw Susan roll away from the spiders.

But long before it got to Seamus, it was far too much. And, there was a lot of clips of Seamus or others talking about him finding her. She knew what was going on, she knew that even though she had won they were still trying to play her life into a sick game- a love triangle between her and Draco and a dead boy. All they had was circumstance, though; they didn't know a damn thing about them.

She'd never be able to escape Seamus' death. It was recorded and it would be in her face at every moment, every second. She killed him just as much as Pansy did. She couldn't just burn one copy of it because it existed everywhere now.

Hermione was glad the stage was dark so that no one saw her furtively wipe away tears.

The whole video was about half an hour long. How could they sum up some people's entire last bits of their lives in just half an hour? Elizabeth hardly got any time but when Hermione thought about her bleeding out she felt like she too couldn't breathe. It wasn't fair.

How was she going to be able to get through this interview? Fred had looked so casual afterwards. How did he do that? Why could he do that?

She caught a glimpse of a death, one she had no part of- Justin's, saw the slice across his neck and she felt so sick suddenly. Ill. Her hand rose to her mouth, shaky, as she tried to hold back barfing all over the stage in front of her. It had all seemed so shimmery in the games; the blood, the deaths, everything. And she was running on basically fumes and adrenaline the entire time so of course nothing felt real. But here, out of the games, in reality? How could she have watched people die? How could she have killed people? How could she have seemed like such a stronger person?

Hannah's hand passed a glass to her; ginger ale. For upset stomachs. They must know, they all have to know how these deaths are for them.

Hermione glanced up at the victors before her. Viktor's face was unreadable and Marcus looked stoked and excited at what was playing before him. Fred, Cedric, and Oliver looked properly disinterested, but she could tell it was just a well-practiced face. She knew Fred well enough to know he was in agony. He had to watch Ron die all over again too, after all.

After it was over, after that last battle and the last thing the crowds saw back home was Hermione pale and bleeding out and being carried away right after their names were called, the screen went black.

There was a moment that felt like an eternity. One where Hermione recalled the piercing gaze of Voldemort and managed to take three deep gasping breaths and one longer swig of the drink before the lights came back up and they were all smiling like idiots.

"I say this every year but, damn, what a show!" Rita announced, "You all just know how to make each year special, I suppose." She giggled, "Hannah! Let's start with you. Did you think you'd ever make it out after you lost your arm?" She asked.

"Oh, well, no one ever really thinks they're going to make it out. If they do, they're liars. I guess I just accepted anything that was coming next. Maybe that's what kept me alive," Hannah gave a casual shrug but Hermione knew that this was far from a casual answer, "I felt like everyday after was borrowed time."

"Do you think it's going to be difficult now, out of the games?"

"Well, I think once you win the Games…" Hannah clicked her tongue, "Everything else's a piece of cake. Plus, it's not like people have to walk around one-armed anymore. We do live in the 20th century." She laughed.

"You are the second Hufflepuff ever to win. I mean, no offence, but I think we all can agree that they are always the underdogs."

Hannah's face flashed for a second before she gave a chocked laugh, "Is there a question in that?"

"Well, what are your thoughts about being a Hufflepuff who wins?"

"I dunno, really. I mean, I don't know if it comes down to houses. A Ravenclaw's never won and that's…I think it just comes down to particular people." Hannah shifted uncomfortably, "I don't think me being a Hufflepuff had anything to do with it or not to do with it."

Rita seemed pleased with these answers and moved onto Hermione, "Hermione! The fan favorite. Did you ever think you'd gain such a following?" She asked, leaning forward.

"Following?" Hermione frowned, "I was just playing the game." She decided to keep her answers curt. Much more and she'd throw up or start bawling on stage.

"Well, play it you did! Now, I think everyone wants to know about little Elizabeth. Wasn't that just the most heartbreaking thing ever?" She asked and the crowd gave moans and awws. Hermione stiffed. At least they weren't asking about Tracey or Blaise or Seamus or anyone else. Elizabeth…she deserved to be talked about.

"Yes, quite. She was an incredible girl and I regret what happened."

"But it could have never been the two of you," Rita waved her hands, "You realize that, right? Of course you do, you are the Smartest Witch of Our Age."

"Yes, I did. Doesn't change my opinion."

"Well, perhaps we should expect that. I think it's been awhile but perhaps we all forget you offered yourself up so another young girl didn't have to go through this." Rita said, which was true. In it all, even Hermione nearly forgot what started it all, "So, you nearly died during the games. I think you had the closest brush with death. Can you tell us at all what that was like?"

Hermione knew they were speaking of the time Draco saved her.

"Oh," She hadn't been prepared for this, "It was uhm, dark? I just remember little flits of conversation, like someone with a bad connection over the Floo. Colors. Sounds. Smells. It was…strange…" She felt the words come out, but it was like they were rocks, landing heavy in her jaws.

"I can't even imagine," Rita placed a hand dramatically on her chest, "And that brings us to Draco! You declared yourself the little doctor, didn't you? Strange, in a game that well, is the opposite."

"I guess," Draco crossed his legs and shrugged, "But gotta keep the game interesting, right?" He said, which seemed the exact right thing to say to manuver out of this mess because Rita threw her head back and laughed like he was the dardest most amusing thing.

"Draco, you are too right! Ah, well, I think we all knew you weren't going to be a force to be taken down easily. And Pansy, she seemed like she wanted you, didn't she?"

"Pansy is-," Hermione was the only one that could tell he almost lost it, just for a second, "Was," He corrected in a steely voice, "A deeply troubled person. I think she wanted my ability but not me, a person. She never wanted anyone for who they were, she just wanted to harness them."

"So you'd say she got what she deserved?"

"No one deserved that, you know," Draco rubbed the back of his neck, "But I think she made choices and she had to have known the consequences. I can't feel sorry for her like that."

"So true, this game is all about everyone and the choice they make that lead to things. I think you sum it up. Lastly, your father helped a great bit. Do you feel that you had an advantage no one else did?"

"In certain terms, sure. But the game was also about everyone using everything they had. I guess I was lucky," Draco conceded after a long moment, "Not everyone could get that…" He trailed off, "I'll be forever grateful though," He added, finishing strong.

"Such strong answers! Now, onto general questions about that ah-mazing finale! Any of you may answer these; just say what comes to mind. First, Pike switching sides, who would have guessed?"

"Pike was a complicated individual," Draco said, "I know that from the time I spent with him in Slytherin. I'm not entirely sure it wasn't selfish reasons." He said, rubbing his jaw. Hermione remembered for the little shit he might have been the way his voice broke in their time stop when he just begged to live. He wasn't lying then. That couldn't have been faked.

"Or maybe Pansy was just a jerk one too many times. I like to think people can change." Hermione but in, " Maybe we'll never know his reasons, but we should honor him because I don't think any of us would have lived if not for him."

"Hermione's right," Hannah nodded, "He was a game changer. I think he liked to press people's buttons, but at the end of the night…I think he knew he was going to die anyway."

"Yes, he did." Hermione agreed hazily, "Or, so I would think."

"Well, we will always remember him. He made it into the top 5, no small feat of course! And Pansy, she nearly did win, didn't she?"

"It was…close…" Draco mumbled.

"Too close," Hannah said a little above whispering and being discreet. When Rita gave her a questioning look she gave a long sigh, "Oh, come on. It would have been hell if Pansy won. She wouldn't have let anyone live with her and the world is probably better with her gone. The games fucked with her more than others."

"Plus she was half-plant at the end," Draco added, "That's dark magic. I wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot-wand."

"Hannah saved the day, of course." Hermione said, nudging her friend with a smile, "She's the one I think Draco and I should both be thanking forever! Hannah's the real hero here!"

Hannah blushed at her praise.

"Ah, you and Draco. I think that's bringing us to our last topic…you two…" Rita trailed off meaningfully, giving a wicked smile and a purr.

"Yeah, I like Hermione." Draco said point-blank, "I think she likes me…as far as I know." He gave her a teasing glance and Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, I think he's alright." For the first time, it felt nice to be with him here on the stage. She got lost in his smile a little.

"Oh, how cute! But, honestly, Draco…you nearly had Pansy in that last battle, but Hermione stopped you. And Hermione, there's a lot of things you did that maybe you wouldn't have done if you weren't unattached. Would you say you're each other's weaknesses?"

"Erm," Draco flustered, "I mean, maybe that's not a bad thing."

"I don't think love itself is a weakness," Hermione said sharply, feeling deeply offended, "I think its' the reason we play this game. If I didn't have love, devotion, affection…why would any of it matter? So no, I don't." She narrowed her eyes, daring Rita to ask something else along those lines.

"I love Hermione, does that count?" Hannah asked.

"Well, that was a vey interesting interview, don't you all say?" Rita blustered right over Hannah's question, "We are sadly out of time, and we don't want to overwork these poor souls, now? They'll be back in a week to answer fan questions submitted to me! One last clap for our three victors!"

Hermione felt like she ran off that stage. She found the nearest trashcan and her stomach curled around and pushed up, even if was only bile she was heaving.

"Hermione-,"

"Weasley, get your hands off Hermione," Draco drawled, "I can handle it."

"No, no. Fred is a friend," Hermione said, looking at Draco, "He's just worried, I'm sure."

"I can't stay…I'm not even supposed to be out here, you know. I just…you looked bad on that stage, Hermione." He said, frowning.

"Don't you remember your own interviews?" Hermione asked, forcing a smile, "We'll talk soon. I'll find you." She said before he left again, casting a worried glance over.

"Hermione," Draco gave a long sigh.

"Don't be jealous of Fred Weasley. He probably wants to talk about Ron, you know. I was sorta the last connection." She pointed out, wiping the back of her lips, "I'm not a flighty type of girl."

"I…I never thought you were." He stuttered, "I just don't want to feel useless."

"You're not." Hermione assured. She felt herself still shaking. That was…rough. Damn.

"You all passed without crying or fainting, an improvement," Umbridge said, although Hermione couldn't recall anyone doing any of those things, but perhaps that was all behind the stage, "If you come with me now, I'll led you back to your changing rooms and then out. Then, you're free. With job stipulations, of course. But, as far as it goes, you're victors now and that means it's done."

Hermione never thought she'd be tempted to cry tears of joy at anything Umbridge said.

They were brought back to their dressing rooms. Hermione found herself alone, to team, just herself as she wiped her makeup from her face and began to try to unzip the back of her dress. Damn it, though, it was stuck.

"Hermione?" Draco knocked on the door.

"Draco, thank Merlin! Come in," Hermione breathed, "Can you get this?" She asked in a pained voice.

"Yeah, sure," He said. She shivered at his fingers on her exposed neck, the feeling as he unzipped her dress. There wasn't anything sexual about it though, not when all she really wanted to do was fall asleep in a nice big bed and forget this happened for a while.

"Hermione, I uh, this is going to sound really stupid," He kicked the chain with his foot as Hermione put back on her more comfortable clothes.

"What's wrong?"

"Did you love Seamus?" The words tumbled out. Hermione stood, stunned, and somehow this was a sign for Draco to keep talking, "I just…I remember all these little things and you two were paired in the beginning and then watching those videos and I just-," She'd never seen Draco look so unsure of himself, "How can I compete with someone like him?"

"I…" Hermione's eyes widened, but she couldn't find anything to say.

"He loved you. It was so damn clear. I wonder if I was so obvious. I bet I am. I bet I was." He said, adding quietly.

"Yeah, Seamus loved me," Hermione decided to begin with the facts she knew as a certainty. This always calmed her, "I knew, he was obvious. You are too." She added, snorting a bit.

"Oh," Draco sat on the couch, quiet.

"Seamus and I…he did a lot for me in the games, okay? He found me after I killed Blaise. I thought I was a monster, I should just die then. He helped me realize I wasn't totally. And he saved me. I didn't love him, though," Draco's head jerked up, shocked, "I think in a different life, I could have. Or maybe we wouldn't have worked. I don't know Draco. All I know is that I'm with you now, whatever that means for us." She breathed out heavily, "You shouldn't be jealous of someone whose dead either."

"I'm sorry," Draco hung his head, "I just, in the games…well, it was slim pickings. I guess I'm terrified out here you've…changed your mind." He admitted.

Hermione leaned forward, tilting his head up with her finger and leaning in for a kiss. It wasn't steamy or needy but it wasn't a gentle peck. Draco leaned into it, yearning for more and Hermione felt her heart beat fast, even if she had been the one to start it. When she pulled back, her whole head felt dizzy.

"Does it feel like I've changed my mind?" She asked.

"No," Draco laughed a little, "I guess I'm just being stupid."

"Maybe a little," Hermione agreed, holding up her fingers, "Look…here's what you need to know. I cared a lot about Seamus, he was a good friend and I miss him a lot. That's all." She said.

"That's all, got it." Draco nodded obediently, "I'm sorry I asked."

"I'm glad you did. I'm tired of people tiptoeing around issues. I don't want that to be us. Not in a world that's so fucking full of it now, you know?" Hermione said.

"I'm glad. But the whole world knows now…" He paused, biting his lip.

"The world always knew." Hermione snorted, "But…I'm glad you didn't define us up there," She said, motion with her hands.

"We're not together," Draco agreed, tilting his head, "Not right now." He added softly.

"One day." Hermione said with resolution, "I meant what I said back in the safe house. I'm not ready to be with anyone. I don't even know if I can be with myself after this. I'm so messed up," She dug her hands into her hair, "It's all so messed up."

"Hey," Draco's hands gently trailed down her wrist, "No pressure. I think there's things I should work on too, before we date or whatever it is." He paused and then took out his wand. Out of his cufflinks, he fashioned a ring for both of them, matching.

"Not a engagement ring, right, but a promise." He said, handing one to her, "There's no one else for me, but there's no one for me at all right now." He said. Hermione's hand closed around the ring.

"Yes, a promise for everything." She agreed.

There was a rap on the door.

"You two okay?" It was Hannah.

"Fine, fine." Hermione opened the door, "I was just…well, that was rough up there." She whispered quietly.

"No kidding," Hannah snorted, "You guys ready to go home?"

"I…where's home?" Hermione felt the words slip out before she could process them. She couldn't imagine going back to her childhood bedroom, with the pink sheets and dolls on the walls.

"I'm not sure either," Hannah stuck her hand in her pocket of her jeans, "One step at a time, yeah?"

"Yeah," Draco said, "Out those doors and into the day." He snorted, flicking his hand toward the white doors out of the stadium.

"They have our stuff out there," Hannah said, ignoring Draco, "And we have lots to do."

"Like what?" Hermione frowned, tilting her head.

Hannah's smile was tight.

"You'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't think for a second this is done. We still have a couple chapters left...
> 
> I went so back and forth about who to appear to Hermione with the stone. I have like nine other versions of other people. First I thought maybe Seamus again, but I feel like i wrapped him away. I didn't think anyone else that died would be good, because it would be too fresh. Same with Harry, his story and Ron's were wrapped up when he died. Then I thought maybe Harry's dad. Then maybe Percy. Finally I settled on George. Hope ya like that bit.
> 
> In what else I'm working on, when I finish this (or Project Iphigenia, whichever comes first) I'm gunna post a Zutara AU of the series 'The Selection'. I'm already like 50 pages in and it's so easy to write! I also still have a very long SeamusxHermione one-shot to post, you know, when I finish it...
> 
> Lastly, would you all follow me if i made a tumblr just for like my artistic stuff? To post these fanfictions and my art or pictures relating to the fanfics? I've been thinking of making one...this way you all can also come and bother me to update without having to leave a review and I can do fun stuff like give excerpts of my latest stuff. What do you all think?
> 
> Remember to review!


	37. Chapter 37

Hermione watched Hannah run her fingers across the plates of the metal walls of the training facility halls. She hummed softly to herself, something that almost sounded like a lullaby. Draco was stoic as he walked, his face masking whatever thoughts he had. And Hermione? She, for once in her life, wasn't thinking of much of anything at the moment.

Hannah's hand stopped as it reached a familiar elevator. The elevator that would take them up to the apartments or down to the training facilities. She recoiled, snapping her hand back as though the metal had burnt her. She made a low growl in the back of her throat.

"If I never have to think about this place again, it would be too soon," She hissed angrily, staring menacingly at the elevators.

Draco gave an amused huff in the background, causing Hannah to spin on him.

"Well, we'll be back here in like 11 months," Draco pointed out with a sardonic laugh, "And you'll think about it every minuet." He added. Hermione didn't think his anger was toward Hannah and her comment, but rather faced inward.

"Wha-,"

"Training. These games start the fuck over again. And again. And again." Draco snapped at her. Hermione swallowed thickly. He was right; it had ended, but then again, it would also never end. They'd have to come back and watch more of the people she loved from school die over and over. She'd have to train these children knowing most would never make it out alive. She was with Hannah; she wished she could forget all about this place but that was impossible.

"We'll have to teach children," Hannah's eyes were wide, "I hardly know how I survived!" She whispered.

Draco paused, "I think I'll teach them about healing." He mumbled, "I only knew because I had an interest. But notice how that was hardly a topic? I get that the point of the games is to kill, but it's also to survive. Kids deserve to know this." He said with a resolution.

"That's an honorable choice," Hannah said, sounding slightly surprised, "I think…I'll tie everyone's arm behind their back or make them hop on one foot. They gotta be prepared for anything, especially loosing the ability of one of their limbs. I'm not talking that they'll loose an entire arm like me, but remember Seamus? His hand was crushed- yours too, Hermione. They have to learn to work on stuff without it."

"That's quite ingenious," Draco said, his eyes looking at her nub arm, "Hermione? What about you?"

"I…" Hermione trailed off, "I don't know…"

"Oh, come on! You're the smartest person I know!" Hannah sighed, "Of course you could teach anything!"

Hermione didn't think that was entirely true. You couldn't teach kids to be more interested in subjects they just didn't care about. You couldn't tell them to start reading now because it might save their lives one day; if they weren't doing it already, they never would. You couldn't teach a kid to be logical in a week; it was a long-acquired skill. Hermione felt many of her skills were just her nature, and that couldn't be explained. She did have a large catch of what one might call useless knowledge in another life, so maybe she'd teach a class like Moody? She'd find out what they were lacking in their curriculums and fill in the gaps? She could make up a lesson on the fly, so that was an option.

But the more she thought about it, the more she thought about that moment in the tree- the day before Daphne died and the snow fell. She thought about how it felt like she was shedding away the Hermione she once was- the one that turned herself into a half-cat thing with Millicent's cat's hair, the Hermione that helped Neville find his toad, the Hermione that went to her parents to France after second year. That Hermione simply didn't exist, but if that part of her weren't buried, she wouldn't be here today.

"I think I'll teach a theory class," She whispered, nearly afraid to say it out loud, "On how kids that were like me- kids that are good people- how they can bridge the gap between who they once were and who they have to be." She placed her two hands a width apart, bringing it slowly closer together.

For a second, there was silence. She wondered if it was altogether a stupid idea. Then, Draco was nodding.

"We're Slytherins, we are taught this forever." He said, "But Gryffindors? Hufflepuffs? Even a couple Ravenclaws?"

"Who we are and who we are to survive are two very different people," Hermione agreed, her voice raw, "And the sooner they can come to terms with that the sooner they can try to get out of there."

"I wish we'd had that," Hannah said wistfully, "You know, I think it would have been real helpful if someone sat me down and told me I had two choices in the games, both with grave consequences. And told me that neither was more right or more wrong than the other. On one hand, you can choose to die your own way and not be a pawn Voldemort, but you will most certainly die. Or, you can choose to live and you gotta be prepared for what that means. It might mean stealing or betrayal or…killing." She swallowed, "I'm not looking for someone to have told me what I had to do was excusable, I just wish I had someone telling me that those are the options. Nothing more, nothing less."

"I'm glad that's figured out," Draco said with a nod, looking a little more relaxed. It was as though this was the only thing bothering him, the one thing in his life he couldn't figure out yet. Hermione realized with a sense of panic that she didn't even know where she was going next. Besides walking through these halls and out that door…the next steps confounded her. Gone was the girl that had meticulously tabbed all her text books months before they'd reach those pages, gone was the girl that usually had read three or four weeks ahead. Left standing was a Hermione that didn't have a clue what was happening next.

For one fleeting moment, so swift but still there, she wanted to be back in the games. In the games, she didn't have to worry about any next steps other than staying alive. Her instructions were clear. The thought of willingly wanting to go back there made her sick, but alerted her to a lingering question…where would she go from here?

Not even where she'd go for lunch today, but as exhaustion gripped her, she wondered where she was going to live now? She couldn't go back to Hogwarts; she'd 'graduated' already. The moment that a child was picked as a tribute, they 'graduated' Hogwarts. Most of these children wouldn't ever come back anyway. The ones that won usually would have finished this year anyway, but there still was the thought that sending a third-year that was a victor back to Hogwarts would be a waste of time.

She couldn't go home. Not to her pink bedroom she saw when she was dying, not to normality and a world not controlled by a evil maniac, not to parents that would try to understand but simply couldn't. She felt as she'd outgrown that comfort.

She could find her own house, apartment, yes. She had the money, but did she want to be alone?

The burrow…maybe Mrs. Weasley would let her come and live at the burrow for a while. She of all people would surly understand what she'd been though, and they could all mourn Ron together. Plus, Ginny would be there, one of her dearest friends. She needed that.

Even though the question was simply satiated, she didn't feel…relief. She still felt anxiety. She wondered if this feeling would ever leave?

GG

Hannah used her feet and her side to shove open the doors of the training facility. The day that hit her was balmy, comfortable even. Hardly felt like she was stepping between outside and inside. It was just like the day in the games where-

She paused, scrunching her nose. Since leaving, she'd been doing that a lot. Comparing things here to there. It was seemingly impossible to stop. It was her way of coping, she was sure Cedric would say. She hated it.

And she had enough reminders already, didn't she, with an arm sawed off? Although, she hardly felt it anymore, only sometimes when she was upset, it would still tingle like it was still there.

But overall, her missing arm wasn't even the biggest reminder of those games.

She remembered a study that Hermione had once talked about. At the time, it had seemed of no consequence to her, but she'd listened because Hermione had been so enthralled. She wondered if Hermione would even recall the moment on the grassy hill in the October sun when she told Hannah about this study, or if she'd read so many that they all blurred together? Well, Hannah- who didn't spend her free time reading scientific muggle studies- recalled this one.

It talked about how it took three days for the brain to adjust to an abrupt setting. They put someone in glasses that made everything upside down. For the first two days, the subjects stumbled around, acting like everyone thought they would. But by the end of the third day, they could ride a bike with ease. And then, when they glasses were taken off, they were so accustomed to the way the world had been, it took another three days to re-situate themselves. But it was always three days. Three days for the world to turn itself right.

And the third day after her arm was gone, the third day that the pain vanished, Hannah felt like she'd never had that arm at all as her body just worked with what it had.

So no, her arm was not the biggest reminder, despite what everyone may think.

It was every other fucking little thing. It was the color of her dress; it was the sound her feet made as it turned on the concrete, it was waking up, and it was the food she was eating. Somehow, every road, even the most insignificant, leads her mind back to the Games.

Outside there is a sea of people behind red ropes. They're all so loud. She stumbles back a step, the sound is overwhelming. They're screaming. Why are they screaming?

It takes a moment, only after sending terrified glances to Hermione and Draco, to see that they're fine and realize the crowd is cheering. They're here for them, excited.

"What do we do?" Hermione whispers as they make it down to the main road and people's hands are clawing at them, as though merely touching them could somehow change something.

"Kiss babies, sign autographs?" Draco shrugs, falling into this with an ease of practice. His smile is a thousand watt, his wave is slight and his hand is quick to sign sheets of paper with quills. He's used to this, Hannah realizes. Not necessarily being a celebrity, but having everyone look at you and everyone envy you. This is probably just like before, she thinks.

Hermione pouts for a second but then finds her footing behind him. Lots of people are screaming her name, out of the three of them. Many want her touch, her signature. Fewer scream Hannah's, but she's fine with that.

The trio makes their way down the road, randomly picking out people that are leaning against the ropes and trying to get to them. Hannah feels good to have everyone love her like this, even if it's a mirage.

At the end, Hannah can see familiar faces. There are friends from school that are still alive, there's teachers she respects, they're…her parents. Oh god, her parents. She feels tears on the edges of her eyes and can't help but let a tear drop. They look so happy to see her. Do they still love her even though she's killed someone?

Out of the whole crowd, when they're nearing the end…steps Cedric. Hannah wants to run to him. She breaks away from Draco and Hermione, not caring that people are watching her. Cedric puts out a hand though, before she can bowl him over with a hug and a kiss, and she wonders if she's done something to upset him? They're romance has been quick and has been a whirlwind, but Hannah has never felt anything so passionately in her entire life. She's never wanted anything more, not even winning.

"Cedric, why…" She trails off as Cedric gets down on one knee.

"Oh my Merlin!" Hermione whispers under her breath behind Hannah, and Hannah turns back to see Draco and Hermione staring with wide eyes. Hermione is close to tears too and looks ecstatic for her friend.

She turns back to see Cedric is holding a ring box.

"Hannah," He says quietly, so softly that she almost can't hear him, "Please?" He whispers. There is so much more that is said in his eyes, so much more that is just for her and no one else alone. She appreciates this gesture and as she looks at the ring, not a quaint stone but not ostentatious, it's suddenly the only thing she can think of.

"Marry me?"

Hannah nods jerkily. She's alive, she loves him and he loves her? Why shouldn't she? Why shouldn't they?

He breaks into a grin, so relieved, as though he feared for a second she'd say no. Hannah feels like she's known him her entire life. She remembers the nights before the games, curled up in his bed illegally, the way his hand trailed up her leg and they laughed so hard they were both crying or the way his chest caved with sobs as he told her about his personal experience, while she pressed her head to his chest and just listened to the sound of his heartbeat. And she'd lived lives beyond her already, hadn't she?

He slips the ring on to her finger and nothing has ever seemed like it belonged there more. He lifts her up in his glee, kissing her and grabbing her waist and Hannah's hand curls into his hair.

And she pulls back and it all catches up with her; she's getting married. She's engaged now.

And Merlin, it's the best realization she's had in a very long time.

GG

Hermione wants to say something to her best friend, who just before her very eyes was proposed to by Cedric, until she sees two figures out of the corner of her eye elbowing their way to the front. Their motions are almost…violent. She never thought her parents to be violent people. Then again, they probably never thought their daughter capable to murder.

Hermione's body floats to them and they push themselves under the red rope in a frantic rush until Hermione greets them half way. They don't even hesitate to touch her, both of them on either side, like a perfectly made sandwich of love. She feels like a child again here in their arms. Her legs start to buckle but they hold her up, just pressing tighter around her. Some part of her thought they'd be too disgusted in her to touch her; they aren't from here like some of the other parents. They've never understood this harsh game. They begged Hermione to snap her wand and leave forever.

Hermione couldn't and they just couldn't see why.

But they're here and they're crying and her father is rubbing her back and her mother is patting her head and it's almost too much. She didn't know how badly she needed their forgiveness, and the forgiveness for everything is in their touches, until this very moment. It's like a weight is lifting off of her and she's crying for what feels like the umpteenth time. One would imagine there comes a point where there's nothing left to cry over. Apparently, Hermione is being proved wrong.

"You're alive," Her mother whispers in her ear, "You've alive and you're our daughter and you were so brave," Her mother said.

"I thought you would hate me for letting myself go in there," Hermione's voice cracked.

"We could never hate you," Her father said gingerly, lifting her head with his hands, "We didn't understand it, not at first, but the Weasleys have been there for us."

Hermione spots Mrs. Weasley over her father's shoulder and she gets all emotional again because Mrs. Weasley has always felt like a second mother. To know that she was taking care of her parents this whole time is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for her. Guilt grips her…she wishes she could have taken better care of Ron.

"Now that you're free we'll go back home. You can go to college, like a normal girl. You have your life back, Hermione, you shouldn't waste it. I've been looking into places. I know you haven't had time to fill anything out but-,"

"No," Hermione forces herself away. As much as they understand some things, it's a sad feeling like a rock in her stomach as she sees there are other things they can never understand.

"No?" Her father repeats slowly, frowning, "No to…what?"

"I'm not coming home." Hermione licks her lips uneasily. They're so chapped, she runs her lips over the edges of her lips again as she watches the confusion morph into worry on her parent's face.

"But, Hermione," Her mother begins in the softest tone imaginable, the one she used to use on Hermione as a child.

"How do you think I can just go to college like a normal kid?" Hermione's voice quivers, "Sit there and learn about wars and the holocaust and pretend like I don't know what it's like to feel someone die in your arms? That I don't know how it feels to kill someone?" She demands in a low, rough voice. Her words are like a slap in the face to her mother, who backs away.

"Hermione, we know that TV can make it seem like some things happened when it didn't, dear." She says, "We're safe." Hermione doesn't understand them but she feels sick when the words come all the way through her brain.

"I did kill people, mom," Hermione says matter-o-factly, "I'll have to live with it everyday, but it wasn't an illusion for views or something." She said. The look of hope drops from her parent's faces, like up until this point they had truly believed that Hermione…

Well, what parent wants to think their daughter could slit someone's throat in the night or watch someone bleed out inches from their fingertips? Not even Pansy's mother would have wanted her daughter to do that, Hermione thinks.

"So you see," Hermione adds awkwardly, now unsure how to say anything to her parents, "I can't just…go back."

"So you'll stay here? The place that did this to you?"

"If you mean the wizarding world, yes," Hermione can feel a shell, one she grew in the games, slowly creeping back over her, "It is where I belong."

"You were always so logical, I can't just understand…" Her mother presses her lips together, "Oh, dear." Her words are filled with such pity and Hermione really hates it.

"I love you guys," She adds as a throwaway because she never wants her parents to think she doesn't, "But your world hasn't been ever meant for me," It's the truth, harsh and unforgiving, the words Hermione's always wanted to say in fights but never had the guts to. Now, she's learned the truth will never be hidden, so why try to hide it?

"We love you too," He father says, pressing a hesitant hand to hers, "But where will you go?"

"I'll…" Hermione's eyes glaze to the Weasley's. She's sure that Mrs. Weasley will let her stay, but she doesn't want to assume anything. Plus, she's acutly aware she's in public for this whole terrifyingly embarrassing event and she's not too keen to say anything else, "I'll find somewhere."

"We can continue the hugs and such later," McGonagall seems to appear from thin air, but she's a welcome interruption, "I'm here to escort you to Hogwarts."

"Why?" Hannah says. Hermione sees she's practically glued to Cedric's side.

"To collect your things, of course. Grab my hand and we'll apparate to the trains." The floo system hardly works anymore, Hermione reminds herself, "Cedric can come too." She adds with a smile.

Hermione is grateful to have a very valid excuse to leave her parents and tells them she'll see them tonight at the large and more private winner's dinner, where they'll talk more. Her mother brightens, as though maybe Hermione has changed her mind. McGonagall looks at Hermione and Hermione sees sympathy in her eyes, and it's so much welcomer than that pity swimming in her mother's. There's only a pat on her back from McGonagall for Hermione to realize McGonagall heard all of it.

Hannah senses the heavy mood and chatters on about how she's dreamed about her wedding since she was eight and all about this collage she made from her mother's magazines, magical and non-magical, that she still has somewhere. It's a nice distraction for Hermione. She feels hurt and loneliness after that, but strong too. She's not going to pretend to be something she isn't anymore. She's going to figure this shit out here, with magic.

The train looks just as they did when they left on it for the training facility, but as far as Hermione is aware it's just the few of them.

"Everyone else's things were collected as they died, but you're items have been left untouched. Since the year's over and you've all graduated, I think it's time to pack up," McGonagall said once the train was moving, "I'll be down in those corridors, working on next year's schedule, if you so need me."

Just a little mention like that, a simple reminder life continued on, someone made Hermione's chest warm.

Not a second after McGonagall left, Cedric stood.

"Hannah, so, there's this thing I want to show you."

"Yes, that one thing." Hannah nodded quickly, "You should."

Hermione's face blushed, but she didn't say anything. Draco, however, snorted.

"You two couldn't be more obvious if you tried." He said, laying down across one of the seats and crossing his arms behind his back, "Just say you're going off to bang and be done with it."

"Jerk," Hannah said, half-teasing, but laced her fingers in Cedric and led him away. Neither denied it.

"Well," Hermione coughed, feeling her cheeks burn, "That was-,"

"They are newly engaged. I can't say I blame them. Didn't think it would be that quick though, I thought for sure they'd pretend for at least an hour or so…" Draco ruminated, twirling his wand in his fingers. It was a motion Hermione had caught him doing many times during their years at Hogwarts, mostly when he was deeply thinking.

"I'm happy for them." Hermione said.

"Don't you think it's a little sudden? They're a little…young?" Draco implored, frowning at her, "They only just got together the week of training and all."

"I guess," Hermione hadn't realized it had only been about a month, and most of that time was when Hannah was in the games, "But…" She shook her head, looking out the window, "I don't actually."

Draco only tilted his head, waiting for her to go on. She drummed her fingers on the window, before finally forming the thoughts she had into something that sounded like an explanation.

"Well, first off, I like to believe in true love and all," She said and her eyes traveled down to his heart, the place he had a scar that matched her hand prints, "That sometimes you just know right away, you don't have to spend years wondering if this is it. And I think the games taught us that we shouldn't spend useless time anymore. If you're sure, why not take any moment you get? Why can't they be sure after all they've both been through? I think they're going to be a great couple. And…" She gave a sad smile, "Don't you feel years beyond just seventeen?" She was eighteen, but still, she certainly felt at least twenty-five.

Draco frowned at her, opening his mouth to correct her, but then startled, as though something just occurred to him. Draco chuckled, giving a low whistle, "Yeah. I forgot I'm only seventeen a while there. I do feel like I've lived through a couple lives while I was in the games." He agreed, "Valid points." He conceded, "I do hope they work, though, really." He continued in earnest, "I want to think that we can just know. I do."

Hermione once again felt her cheeks flush, but for an entirely different reason. With her socked foot, she gently kicked his shin.

"You're such a damn romantic," She muttered.

He grinned, biting his lip and raising an eyebrow, "You know…I heard your talk with your parents." He added, trying to slide into something big, but of what Hermione was still unsure.

"Yes," Her shoulders locked, "I think everyone did," She added bitterly.

"Move in with me." Draco said, going straight for it. Hermione's eyes widened and her elbow slipped off the window.

"What?" She couldn't help but spurt out, "Draco, we're not even-,"

"Not saying like as a relationship, I still live my parents for godssake." Draco admitted, wincing, "But having you around a lot wouldn't be the worst thing, and you're one of my best friends without the romantic bit of it. We have a cottage on our property, for what used to be for the various workers, when it couldn't be elves. I mean, it's nothing big, but it's enough for one person. You could come and go as you pleased, no one would bother you, it's quiet, I'm right there…"

Draco could see the uncertainty in Hermione's eyes.

"Think about it?" He pleaded. Hermione gave a long nod. It did sound enticing, admittedly. She could really spend some quality time on her own issues if she wasn't bothered by the many people going through the Weasley house- not that she didn't love that on occasion- but she had different needs, especially now. Plus being close to Draco, she could defiantly get use to it.

"I will think about it," she agreed, "Truly."

The rest of the ride was spent talking about really mundane things, about what food they hoped would be at the dinner, how long they were betting they were going to sleep or not sleep that night, discussing stories of childhood. It defiantly felt normal, or what a normal 'relationship' or friendship would be like, and some part of Hermione kept waiting for tragedy. This was too good to be true, all of this. It had to be.

The train ride seemed shorter than it ever had before, and that's because it was the last time, Hermione thought. Unless, of course, she one day became a Hogwarts professor, something she'd considered once or twice before all this. Now…well, let's just say she was quite pleased to not have to worry about a job at least for a couple years.

At the gates, McGonagall gave each of them the passwords currently being used for their houses and they went their separate ways, at least for the moment- even Cedric said he had something he needed to do and gave Hannah a kiss that wasn't quick- even if they were going to be separated only for an hour at most- before following McGonagall somewhere.

Hermione felt like a ghost to be traveling the halls with no one else there. It felt and smelled like her castle, but it wasn't.

"Oh, look at you," The portrait of the Fat Lady crooned when she came closer, "We all knew you'd win, all the portraits. Except some of those grumpy ones, they bet on the Malfoy kid," She paused, "Although we were both right, then…"

Hermione forced a smile, "Ashwinder," She said the password through her teeth and the Fat Lady nodded.

"Of course, no need for talking." She agreed, and opened the door.

Hermione walked straight through the common room without looking at anything.

Her own room felt safe. Her things had been packed up long before she left for the games- she anticipated she'd either be leaving the next day or going into the games- so she'd prepared. She sat on her bed, sighing and laid down. In reality, these mattresses had seen better days, but right now she couldn't imagine anything more comfortable.

After a bit she forced herself up and looked around. The room seemed like any other end of the year, Parvati's side a little mussed. She always did hate to make her bed in the morning, Hermione recalled.

And Lavender's side looked cleaned out too.

Hermione's fist clenched and her wand slipped from her fingers as it pinched it. She watched it roll across the floor to right by the foot of Lavender's bed. It was just being cruel now, wasn't it?

Hermione bent down and saw a lone object underneath Lavender's bed. With nimble fingers, she pulled out something completely ordinary and something that would have made sense to have been left behind- a lipstick tube.

She slumped onto the ground, opening it and felt something between a laugh and vomit rise in her throat.

It was Lavender's, she knew it for a fact. It was a gaudy color that Hermione knew wasn't her color- not that she knew what her color was to begin with, whatever the hell that even meant, but this surly wasn't it. But oh, Lavender had loved that color. She'd bought two or three tubes of it, Hermione was sure, because Hermione recalled years that Lavender would sit in front of her mirror and just paint it on her lips. Even though the color was horrendous and it seemed like she was putting on enough turn herself into a Picasso painting, whenever she'd turn around to get her friend's opinion, it would somehow look flawless. Whenever Hermione put on lipstick it looked like she had just drunkenly made out with a clown.

And, worst of all, it looked like the exact color of those crushed berries that Lavender ate. The ones that killed her.

Hermione's fist closed around the tube. She wondered if she should give it to Parvati or Lavender's parents. They would know the significance of this tube. But giving it up seemed so impossible to Hermione. She hated that she had to kill Lavender, whether she had ever been friends with her or not. She hated that Lavender had even been picked. She hated that here Hermione was with a half-used lipstick in her hand sobbing about it.

And she felt like she should keep it.

And once she began thinking about Lavender, she began thinking about every other Gryffindor that should have been alive today that would never lounge on the bright chairs in front of the fire again. She thought about how many empty dorm rooms there must be and at this point they almost might need to merge years together so people aren't alone. She thought about how many children's rooms were cleared out and things like this lipstick were left and no one was there to find it as Hermione had. And it was so fucking unfair, all of it.

Hermione dragged herself to the mirror glued to the wall. She uncapped the lipstick and dabbed it across her chapped, swollen lips. She didn't look like a nightwalker with this color on, actually. She didn't look like a goddess, but she looked okay. She stared at herself in the mirror as the pigment in the lipstick sunk between her cracked lines and the product tinted her lips. It looked like Lavender's mouth seconds before she went limp.

Hermione wiped the color off on the back of her sleeve, but some of it still remained, on the corner of her mouth like berry juice dribbling down her chin.

GG

Hannah couldn't even bring herself to go into her room until she watered the plants in the common room, the ones sitting on the table in the view of the one little window they had up at the top of the ceiling, shining light into their underground den. She thought it was strange; why didn't someone bring this home with them? She couldn't recall the plants that always appeared here ever staying over the summer, for there just wasn't enough Hufflepuffs around to water them. Teachers came and went but not consistently and students rarely were here past a week after break ended.

She filled the tin next to them in the sink, going around and giving them life. She'd bring them home with her, that much was decided the moment she saw them forgotten. As she turned one of them around to make sure she wetted the soil consistently, she saw a name scrawled into the terracotta pot: Wayne Hopkins.

Ah, that explained it.

Her throat constricted but she felt even more determined to bring these to her home with her. She was sure that the rest of his things had been taken away by some clean-up crew, but these had been untouched, likely because they didn't know. Hannah was sure none of her housemates were eager to let the people cleaning either.

She found a cardboard box in the back of the common room and loaded the six pots into it, setting it by the door.

In her own room, things looked like the end of any other year. Clean, bright, ready for them to come back in the fall. But they wouldn't be.

Hannah's own things were not great in number; Hufflepuffs were notoriously minimalistic. Plus her family wasn't one of great means, not like Draco's, so she only owned enough clothing to keep her clothed without worrying too much about laundry and not much else from there. She had a couple books from home, a picture frame or two, but most of her things she'd left back in her childhood home over winter break. She had anticipated being picked, in a morbid way. At this point, it was just statistical.

So, it took almost no time in packing it all. More or less, she just messily threw it into her trunk. She really didn't want to linger here longer than she had to, a stark difference in feeling compared to previous years. Before, she would have stayed at Hogwarts forever if she could.

At Susan's bed, the one directly across from her own, she conjured a wreath of flowers and laid it across her pillow.

Inspired, she found Leanne's room as well. Although she'd never stepped foot inside Leanne's room, she could find Leanne's bed easy enough. There was an uncomfortable aura around it, like something not bad but not good. There was just a sense of things being too clean at the bed at the last low, like it was done by adults with a purpose, not a student excitedly packing their things for the end of the year. She put a flower there too.

She went lastly to the boy's dorms from her year. She didn't really think about things, not until she got to the last bed- Ernie's (she'd spent hours studying with him here, since the rule didn't stop girls from going into guy's dorms) to put a wreath down.

She sat, and the terrible feeling of acute longing washed over her, violently even. Ernie had been her best friend. Merlin, she missed him.

And how awful that an entire year of boys had just been…wiped out? That there was not a boy in this year left. All three beds in the room with wreaths, all three empty and lingering.

She lay down on the bed, rolling over and pressing her face into the pillow. It still smelled like him, faintly. She could even remember a time she wondered if they possibly might end up together. Now she was engaged. It had never happened, which probably was a good thing, they joked about. If anything, the fact that they were best just as friends made the loss of him even greater. If he was a boyfriend…sometimes, boyfriends left, things ended. She could have gone the rest of her life being good friends with Ernie, up until they were old and frail.

That wouldn't happen now.

Selfishly, she took off the pillowcase from the pillow and folded it into her own bag. It would only retain his scent for a couple more days, but she couldn't imagine not having it, leaving without it now.

She dragged everything up to the Headmistress' office, where everyone had been told to meet. Interestingly enough, no one was there yet, not even Hermione. McGonagall was absent, although the stairs let up up to the main room. She pushed her suitcase against the wall and carefully set the box of plants on the ground. She looked around; this room was still filled with so many knickknacks and curios that she couldn't imagine ever tiring of letting her eyes wander.

Yet, today, her eyes fell upon the Sorting Hat, sitting on it's perch. Hardly even twenty-four hours ago she'd had its help to win.

"You saved us," She said out loud. She wasn't even sure the hat was sentient outside the sorting ceremony. To her great surprise, the hat smirked.

"Abbott, Hannah," He recited, like her name had been said as a first year before she was sorted, "Although not all here…"

She shifted in the chair, pushing her missing arm side into the leather, shoving her good side forward. Something about the hat's scrutinizing look made her feel strange.

"Quite a feat, pulling that sword from me, you know. Not just anyone can do it, let alone see it." He said and Hannah frowned.

"Draco didn't," She recalled his absolute surprise when she'd mentioned it.

"It's a special sword, that of Godric Gryffindor's. It only appears when a true Gryffindor needs it." He said. Hannah gave a quiet nod. Hermione was in great need of it, dying there, she just couldn't get to it.

"Hermione appreciates it coming, I'm sure." Hannah said out loud, her foot tapping gently on the wood of the desk in front of her.

"Hmm," The hat merely murmured. Yet that sound put a doubt in Hannah's mind. One that made her question something she'd felt on the edge of her mind now for a bit. Her foot kicked the wood façade rather loudly as something emerged in her mind and the sound echoed around the empty room.

"Hat," Hannah called out, unsure how to address it, "Do you think that we're ever sorted too young? That we can change…and that the house we once would have been in aren't so anymore?" She asked, her voice tiny.

"I believe in change, it's the only truth I know," The hat replied, "But I also believe that I was made to see a person's true self, present-past-and future. And I know more than anyone that sometimes one person is not simply a single house, but two or three. It's what they do in situations of true emotion that make the difference."

"But then how could I-," Hannah started to ask, but locked her jaw. She hadn't felt like a Hufflepuff, not since the middle of the games. Whenever it was brought up that she-a Hufflepuff- won, a strange knot appeared in her stomach. Did she feel like a different house? Maybe. Did she know which one that was? Not at all.

"The houses are not all too different, you'd realize if you sorted as many children as I. Some more so than others. In the moment of the battle, you altogether could have been a Gryffindor as much as a Hufflepuff." It said.

Hannah gave a slow nod.

"Does it matter?" He hat asked and Hannah could not answer. She let the answer ring out, and she did not respond.

Truthfully, she didn't think it did, but everyone else was making it so. And, if these games taught her much of anything, it was that they did not care for which house a person was. Everyone still died, everyone's blood was red, and everyone- even Pansy- died a death that was unnecessary.

GG

Draco felt the chill of his common room as soon as he stepped inside. The water from the lake leeched coldness into the floor and usually there was a fire, even at the end of term, in the fireplace. Today, the whole place was chilly.

It seemed darker than before, maybe.

Draco didn't waste much time, for he knew his moving out would be an arduous one. His parents had sprung for only the best of materials, and unlike some other students, all his furniture was that of his own. His parents wanted him to be comfortable in school, so instead of the small twin bed the school provided, he had rich queen-size four-poster bed in his room, much like the other Slytherin boys his age. Keeping up with the popular parents was such a trend, after all.

Crabbe and Goyle had done a dismal job of cleaning out their things, and Draco still spotted some term papers with 'Dreafulls' or some text books that were useless to them in the spot their beds would have been. Theodore's area was spotless, unsurprisingly, and Blaise's was-

Draco frowned. He hadn't thought of Blaise in a very long time.

Well, he wasn't going to start now, not when he had a job to do and other things on his mind.

He determined the best way to move everything was to gather everything either into his homemade dresser, desk, or onto his bed and then shrink it all down and put it in his book bag. It was a difficult spell on such large objects, one Draco was okay at.

He was surprised to find less resistance than he would have guessed and noticed immediately his spell work was stronger. He had been doing some very mature spells in the games, he figured.

On his way out of his bedroom, with his things in tow, he nearly ran into a large body.

"Flint, what are you doing here?" He asked, stepping back.

"Malfoy, I see you're cleaning out things," Flint said.

"Yes. Very obviously," Draco crossed his arms over his chest, "Why else would I be here?"

Immediately, Draco felt a hand around his neck as he was shoved back into the wall.

"Don't give me lip, Malfoy. I'm older than you, more vicious than you. I could crush your skull if I wanted," Flint gave a tooth smile. Draco recalled his signature move during his year had been to smash heads into bits.

"I think that's unwise, Flint," Malfoy gasped out, struggling not to panic, "Even if I can't get to my wand, I am quite adept at wandless magic." He said, trying to seem casual. He didn't want to give Flint any sort of satisfaction.

"Go on then, hurt me," Flint challenged, his pungent breath on Draco's cheeks, inches away from his face, "Do it." He goaded.

Draco paused, wondering why Flint had become suicidal or something all of a sudden, but just as quickly as Flint had attacked him, he was let go.

Draco dropped to the ground, spitting up and trying to find his breath as his fingers rubbed what would bruise around his neck.

"I knew it," Flint said, kicking Draco's side, "I've been wondering for awhile if you really were a true Slytherin or not, but I guess I have my answer."

Draco's eyes snapped up, anger clouding his eyes at the accusation.

"How dare-,"

"You killed two of our own, Malfoy. We don't do that, not unless they're weak. Daphne was not weak. Tracey, the surprise of the century, was not weak. And do you know what they called you? The Protector," Flint said it like it was the most appalling thing he'd ever heard," Draco Malfoy, good at healing and protection spells. The little guardian angel of the games," He taunted, "You're as bad as a Hufflepuff and thusly should be treated as one, I say. And worst; you fell in love with a mudblood and have I wondered for a while if it was just for show but you really do love her. Pathetic." Flint said dismissively, kicking Draco again and turning around to leave. Draco's blood boiled. He could insult him and his stature, fine. But bring Hermione into this?

Draco reached out, grabbing Flint by his ankle and pulled him down angrily. He shoved the boy, much larger than he, on his knees as he stood up. He took out his wand from his pocket, looked at it, and threw it aside.

"I would think really hard before insulting me, Flint." Draco said in a darkened tone, "Because I am much more skilled than you ever were and I can kill you with my hands too, but with magic. If you ever lost your wand," Draco summoned it non-verbally and Flint lunged out as his wand flew into Draco's hands. Draco played with it, pretending to consider it, "Well, let's just say I think I'm going to keep this for awhile to prove a point."

"You," Flint growled, trying to get up, but Draco grabbed his shoulder and whispered a body-locking spell. Flint went rigid, unable to speak.

"Better," Draco said, wiping his forehead, "I wasn't finished. I did what I had to survive, just like any other Slytherin did- but no one else did as well as I did. And the idea that a Slytherin can actually be a decent person isn't a paradox, and I won't try to make it one. But let me assure you if I am threatened, if I am attacked, if anyone I love is attacked or threatened," He lowered himself to stare directly into Flint's eyes, "You will truly see that I am a Slytherin and defiantly no one to trifle with." He threatened with resolution in his voice.

He put Flint's wand in his bag and went across the room to pick up his own. He went over to a large mirror next to the window to the sea and craned his neck. There weren't marks yet, but he was sure there would be. He had a spell to help that, which he did immediately. The easiest way to heal something was to get to it as soon as possible.

At the door, Draco heard Flint's desperate squeaks as he still kneeled petrified. He turned, sighing, "Someone will find you Flint. You're unfortunately too important as a victor to be left unattended to." Draco said confidently before closing the portrait door behind him.

He still felt riled up. He didn't like being dark- he thought of Pansy and her foray into dark magic- but he was a dangerous person and Flint should be aware of that. Yes, he could have easily killed Flint, but he was still a healer more than anything. But that didn't mean the thought hadn't flitted across his mind.

This should make a point for him not to bother him or Hermione; although he was sure Hermione could quite easily handle someone like him on her own. He felt his feet leading him. His thoughts were on Colin but also on Elizabeth. More so on Elizabeth, and being in the castle just heightened those thoughts.

He hated saying it, but Colin likely would have been picked off next year if not this year. Unless he won, there wouldn't have been anyway he was gong to get out of this. But Elizabeth? He felt like she had so much more left in her, even with her sickness. He was sure that if someone had known, maybe if he'd known, he could have figured something out. She was only 13, she deserved so much more. She should have had the chance to take her NEWTS and OWLS and learn to apparate and go to a Yule Ball and date guys and sit down with Madam Sinatra to discuss what she was going to do in life…

And she was dead.

At the door to the Ravenclaw common room, Draco found the walls outside of it covered in beautifully painted pictures of the tributes. It was a poignant reminder there hadn't been a Ravenclaw winner- all these people were dead. Underneath were flowers or bears or picutres of those sacrificed? The students had been in Hogwarts almost a week into the games still, until graduation. He was sure that some teachers had attempted to wash it from the walls, but he sensed a great deal of powerful magic surrounding the images.

He picked up a dying flower from Elizabeth's picture and made it into the dragon stuffed animal she'd loved so much.

A shadow out of the corner of his eye made him go on edge and for a second he wondered how Flint managed to free himself so fast and how stupid he could be to come after Draco a second time. But when he turned, he saw it was his godfather instead.

"Draco, it's a pleasure to see you alive," Snape said, and Draco was sure this was the closest Snape had ever gotten to say he cared for Draco.

"Yeah, I am." Draco agreed. Snape looked past Draco to where the pictures were, and his face deepened into a scowl. Draco felt a rush of fuel, ready to defend Elizabeth to his godfather. Instead, Snape shook his head.

"Come with me, Draco," He instructed in a tone that said it wasn't a suggestion.

Snape led Draco back down to his offices, and he was very taciturn. Draco didn't find this odd, but it was the sadness in Snape's eyes that he did. He liked to think that even the death of a thirteen-year-old was hard for his godfather, but he couldn't be sure.

Once inside, Snape pointed to a chair. Draco sat, sinking into it. His godfather did a series of very intense spells before unlocking a drawer in his desk.

"What's with all the cloak and dagger?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He was almost afraid of what his godfather was going to give him, what he was assuming.

"I was told to give someone I trust this," He said, handing Draco a square object. Draco flipped it over. It was…a book. More than that, a book of children's tales called 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'.

"Erm, thank you?" Draco frowned, "I stopped reading this when I was like eight, though. And who is this from, exactly?" Draco flipped through it absentmindedly.

"Dumbledore, in the even of his death. Which unfortunately, has occurred." Snape said, "Although not without a great sacrifice to the cause."

Draco closed the book with an audible snap, "The cause…" He echoed, eyes wide, "So you're not-,"

"No." Snape said curtly without letting Draco finish.

"Should we be talking about this here?" Draco whispered in a low voice, bowing his head.

"Do you think I don't know how to check my own office for listening devices, boy?" Snape asked, annoyed.

"I didn't…I guess." Draco felt his face blush at the thought, because Snape was good at this.

"How long?" He asked.

"Since the night Harry's parents were murdered," Snape leaned back in his chair, making Draco's thoughts that maybe he'd been perfecting this for a long while true. Draco looked down at the book.

"I don't understand why I got this, though." He mumbled.

"Because I trust you will do the right thing," Snape said simply, "I almost had to give it to the Granger girl," Snape made a low growl in the back of his throat, "Luckily, you seem to have things…figured out." He said vaguely. He meant in terms to whose side Draco was on, of course.

"I didn't sign up for this, you know," Draco said, not angrily, but just confused. In truth, yes, he did really hate Voldemort and would love to see him topple. He was just surprised that this opportunity seemed to fall into his hands, quite literally.

"You would have, given time." Snape said wisely.

Draco opened the book again, "I'm not sure what this means. Do you?"

"Not the foggiest," Snape admitted after a long second, "But Dumbledore would have given such instructions were it not paramont to our winning." He assured, "Nothing needs to be done today. Revolutions do not happen within a week, Draco," He said, which was a surprisingly soft and comforting thing to hear.

"I think you should be getting back to McGonagall's office. You all shouldn't linger here longer than needed," Snape announced, standing.

"Right, yes." Draco agreed. He paused, "What do I do now that I'm…" He made a hand motion with his free hand, meaning that he was now inside this revolution.

"Act like you aren't. Make it count, as I do." Snape instructed sharply, "You're life depends on it still. Don't worry too hard about this and just try to get through the next couple weeks." He offered a bit of advice.

"How have you done this for seventeen years?" Draco asked, shocked.

A look came over Snape's face; one Draco recognized but was absolutely flabbergasted to see on his mentor's face. Love. "I'd imagine the same reason you are now invested in this," He said. He'd never thought of Snape as capable of loving or romantic or anything, but that comment…

And, just as quickly as it arrived, the look on Snape's face was gone, "Don't fuck this up, Draco. Not just you depend on that." He reminded, and Draco gave a quick nod. It was so much more than just him.

He almost opened his mouth to ask who his godfather loved, but at the last second decided that he liked the way his face looked and just left, the book tucked under his arm. On one hand, he almost thought Dumbledore was just a crazy old man. But, out of anyone in the world-including his own parents- he trusted Snape the most. And Snape had trusted Dumbeldore, so this must mean something. He just wasn't sure he'd be able to understand what. He was honored to be given such a responsibility but one part of him was terrified he'd fail and let everyone down. Draco didn't often think so lowly of his own skills but this task could possibly be even more difficult and life threatening than the Green Games. He couldn't misstep at all.

GG

Hermione tapped her foot nervously at the entrance to the Headmistress office. She didn't see anyone else here yet, and for some reason the tube of lipstick felt as though it was burning a hole in her pocket.

The griffin behind her moved and out stepped Hannah, balancing a large cardboard box of plants with her one arm and her bag moving magically behind her.

"Can I help?" Hermione jumped up, beginning to take the box from her.

"No, no. I got it." Hannah said confidently. From around the corner appeared Draco, and Hermione was surprised to see he only had a satchel on his arm, no trunk. He kept touching the satchel though, as though checking if something was there.

"Ah, there we are," McGonagall said, coming from yet another direction, "Do we have everything?" She asked. Three heads nodded, "Well, then, follow me." She instructed, and led them down to the boathouse. Hermione's heart clenched; it was tradition that at graduation, the students left on boats as they had come. There was only one little boat though, and she wished she could have been with everyone on all of them. And not just those that survived the reaping in their seventh year but everyone, Harry included.

Draco helped Hermione onto the boat. Cedric took Hannah's things and she didn't stop him. Marcus Flint appeared, and Hermione wondered why he was here, but he looked at Draco and his eyes bugged out a little and he sat the farthest away from them as he could. How odd.

The night was falling by the time everything had been said and done, and they were leaving Hogwarts. There was mostly silence on the way back, Hermione turned to face leaving Hogwarts in the distance. There wasn't the same kind of sadness there usually was, in fact, she merely felt relief.

And the thought of maybe distancing herself from everything brought her relief, from everything that had been. Not forever, but just for awhile. Part of that was the Weasley house, something she'd been so sure she'd liked, but now, she wasn't sure.

She looked back at Draco, who instead was focusing on the reflection of the stars in the lake, his fingers trailing like a mosquito hopping on the surface of the water. He seemed deeply troubled by something, she could tell from the way his brow was creased like a sheet of paper.

"Draco?" Her voice was soft and didn't carry to anyone else on board. McGonagall was steering the boat, Flint was quite in his own world, and Cedric and Hannah were discussing something. Draco looked up, the worry vanishing from his face for a second, "I'd like to stay in that house, if you'll still have me." She whispered. Draco flicked the water from his fingers.

"Of course, but what changed your mind?" He asked.

"I just…" She played with her sweater, clenching it between her fingers and releasing over and over, "I need something not familiar. Familiarity has only gotten people killed and me into this. I just need time away from everything." She said.

Draco sat up straight, "Are you okay, Hermione?" He asked, scrutinizing her.

"I will be," Hermione gave a wry smile, "Do you understand?" She asked. Draco chuckled, blowing out air from his cheeks.

"Perfectly," He agreed. A grin split his face, "You're going to love it, Hermione."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're still up for at least one more chapter before this is over, most likely two. I have a list of like 15 things to write before it ends and this one only got through five, but other scenes I don't think will require so much space. So we'll just have to see, I suppose.
> 
> A lot of people had really good responses to me starting a tumblr for my stuff, so I've created one- search for YoungbloodLex22 and my profile pic is the slytherin uniform. I haven't posted much, just because I want you all following before I start so my thoughts aren't lost to the void lol.
> 
> So, what did you think of this chapter? Review and let me know!


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to update this awhile ago, but I didn't have a full 20 pages and I was like 'oh, I'll just finish this up real quick' and then that real quick turned into weeks...
> 
> But, I this is one of my more favorite written chapters, and I hope you all enjoy it too!

"So you and Miss Granger are…not dating?"

Draco paused with his fork halfway between his mouth, staring down at his mother's form. He didn't know why right now of all moments, at what had been such a nice and casual brunch, she decided to broach this subject. Perhaps it's because his father wasn't in the room. He hadn't been thrilled about Hermione moving to the guest cottage, but he didn't put up a fight. Still, though, Draco had a feeling he'd have a hard time coming to terms with the fact that maybe one day she'd be in the family.

He set his eggs down, folding the Daily Prophet he'd been half-heartedly scanning.

"No, mother, we are not." He said, hoping his tone would end the conversation.

"But you two are very friendly…she's living in our guesthouse, you know." His mother continued, absolutely meaning she hadn't gotten the hint or ignored it (likely the latter), staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Of course I know. I'm the one who invited her to live there," Draco gave an annoyed growl in the back of his throat.

"So you two kiss and such and you have told your father as much that you refuse to date anyone else ever and you both have matching rings that neither of you wear on your finger but it's around your necks and-,"

"Mother," Draco's tone was sharp and irritated, "Just what in the world are you trying to say?"

"I'm not even sure, love," His mother set her tea-cup down to make a clattering sound, "I'm merely trying to understand it, is all. I don't see how two people can simultaneously be together and not be together?" She questioned.

"It's very complicated, mum," He said softer, drawing his eyebrows together, "It's different than when you and dad were getting together. You didn't have these Games hanging over you."

"I just don't want to see my baby get hurt."

"I'm not going to get hurt," Draco stood up, taking his mother's hand, "We both need time to…figure out our own shi…stuff. The games did a number on us. And we do love each other, at least," Draco gave a half-laugh, "I love her. She's almost said it back, I don't want to rush her. And maybe we are together," He mused, "But not in the traditional sense, you know? Neither of us wants to deal with the journals or the questions or the interviews really being together would put on us. We have enough of that anyway."

As he tried to form what was with him and Hermione, he watched his mother, rapt with attention. One could say all the bad things they pleased about Narcissa Malfoy, but never could they accuse her of not loving her son in every convincible way. She was really trying to find the meaning within his words.

"We like this, whatever it is. Best friends, right now, I suppose," Draco gave a small smile, thinking of the late nights they'd shared of late, the laughing-something Draco thought himself incapable of doing- and the shared looks of just…happiness. It was eight days since they'd come out of the games and it had been the best eight days of his life in a very long time. Being around his parents was great, but deep down, he knew it was Hermione that made him feel so.

"And I have to think that one day we will be together, because I just can't imagine ever letting her go." He finished, looking at his mother's impassive face, "Does that…do you…"

"Not quite," His mother admitted, patting his hand, "But one day I will. I want to understand you, Draco, and this person you've had to become. He's very different than the one that left us."

"Is that good or bad?" Draco asked, getting up to grab a piece of toast from the center table.

"I haven't figured it out yet," His mother said honestly, and Draco nodded. He'd always appreciated the stark truthfulness of his mother.

He took a short hike through the gardens to where the small cottage lay. Small for him of course. When Hermione had seen it, she'd made some small noise in the back of her throat and asked in how in the world he thought this was just a 'quaint' cottage. Yes, it did have three bedrooms and a full luxurious bathroom off the biggest one, plus other niceties, but compared to his house it was 'quaint'.

Hermione hadn't truly left in days. She'd holed herself up doing what he remembered Hermione doing best…reading. She'd been quite impressed with the Malfoy family library, and the way her eyes had lit up once he'd told her she was free to take any book she wanted…Well, she'd magically carried nearly forty out to the cottage with her that night.

But he was starting to worry. Besides that trek to the Malfoy Manor for the books that first day, she hadn't left. She was completely self-sustained here, having a kitchen and baths and Draco brought her food or ingredients to cook everyday, and while he saw her everyday, it was the fact that she'd really only had communications with Hannah that concerned him.

And not for other's lack of try. Sitting on her kitchen table was a pile of letters from everyone, and he meant everyone. Literally anyone who was anyone and anyone who was a nobody had penned Hermione at least once. People like the Weasleys that remained or Neville at least once a day. Fred was the most irritating, with nearly three letters per day.

And all of them, except Hannah's, were left unopened.

"I don't know how to talk to them," Hermione groaned when he asked about it yesterday, "I don't know if I want to. I just want to pretend I never have to leave here again."

"That's unfortunately impossible," Draco said, curling his arm around her, "We have the funerals, you know."

"Yes." Her voice was scarce, "But is it so bad that just until then I want to act as though none of that happened and just…exist?" She asked in small tone.

"Whatever you need," Draco assured, but deep down, it concerned him. Hermione had always had such a…connection with others, with her friends. Gryffidnor loyalty, he'd once scoff at. The thought that she was here, hermiting away, made him wonder if there was a deeper issue.

But it wasn't all for a lost cause. Hermione was not Hermione without a project. And, the first night, he'd been quick to show her the book Snape had given him. Snape had as much as said it was going to go to Hermione if he had died, so obviously she was a safe person to show. He still didn't understand it anymore than the moment Snape had handed it to him.

"It's a book of children's fairy tales," He'd explained at Hermione's confused look when he showed her the cover, "You've never heard of any of them?"

"Well, I was a muggle. I guess it's akin to Cinderella or Rapunzel…" She trailed off, flipping the book open.

"I don't know what those are, but sure." He said, "I also don't know why this matters. Unless Dumbledore is trying to congratulate us about something that hasn't happened yet, beyond the grave…" Draco blushed a bit, and Hermione's eyes snapped up, "I'm just saying, I don't think that it's an extremely early baby gift."

"No, no…" Hermione frowned, "It is something more." She agreed. Then, she was adamant about translating the runes that it was written in. Draco, frankly, found that to be a waste of time.

"I have a version of it at home, translated." He'd said when she requested his old Ancient Runes text book. Hers she seemed to have lost, even though she was far better in that course than he ever was.

"But why didn't he just give us that, then? There has to be some significance!" Hermione insisted. So, that's what she'd been working on. Translating the entire book, bit by bit, and them comparing it to the text he'd given her. So far…nothing.

When he appeared, he found Hermione leaning over the desk, scribbling something.

"Anything, yet?" He asked, gnawing his lip. It was day eight. On day fifteen, two weeks after the end of the games, would start the funeral period. 14 days for the families to plan their funerals, a small grace given to them. And they were expected to be at all of them, per tradition. And Snape would be there for some, at least the Slytherins. Draco really didn't want to admit to his godfather there was nothing figured out about this tome yet. He didn't want to let him down.

"Oh, hey," Hermione jumped at his voice. She seemed more tired than usual, deep bags underneath her eyes. She almost looked…well, like she was on drugs. But Draco knew she didn't take any.

"Let's…go over here," He said, gently guiding her away.

"Not a single thing." She sighed, "Except that I've made progress on runic translations, nothing is out of place yet and I'm nearly through the book." She squinted, "You wizards have strange fairy tales."

"No stranger than a girl who doesn't get the love of her life and turns into sea foam or birds that peck out evil step-sister's eyes," Draco battled. He might have taken it upon himself to look up some muggle fairy tales, after hearing that they had them, and was pretty much appalled at what he read.

He got a small smile from Hermione. "Touché." She agreed.

Her leg bounced, a nervous habit he'd never seen from her, and she looked around, as though haunted.

"Draco," Her voice cut through his thoughts, "I need you to do something for me." She said very seriously.

"What?" He asked. He'd do anything for her.

She went to her beaded bag, one that she never seemed to go anywhere without, even within this house, and pulled out a lump of something wrapped in fabric.

"Take this," Her voice broke a little, "I can't…I can't have it with me anymore." She whispered.

"Hermione, what is it?" He asked, starting to unwrap it.

"No! I mean…oh, bollocks…" Hermione groaned, and Draco stayed like a statue, fingers hovering over the lump.

And she told him everything. About how she saw Harry in the games, how he saved her. About how she was with Ron when he died, between when he died. About George and Madam Malkin putting it with her and the explanation about it all.

"And these last few days, it's haunted me. So many times I've almost unwrapped it but I cant." He voice raised a pitch or two, "It will only go badly if I do. It's tempting me, too tempting. And like this, so broken, I think usually I'd be stronger…" She added dejectedly.

"No, Hermione," He lifted her chin, "No one is saying you're not strong. If you've managed to survive with this so long, you're so brave and so powerful. You don't even understand how much of a temptation this would be to some." He said.

"I need it somewhere safe. It was impressed upon me that it is vital to something, but I'm not sure what. But I have dreams of using it, of seeing Harry or Ron or Seamus or Lavender." She lifted a quivering hand to her lips, "And it's always awful."

"Is that why you feel you can't write back to those people?" Draco guessed.

"I have a way to contact the dead, sitting in my hands. I feel selfish for not telling them, but it's not a toy, and it would- no it does- only brings misery. But I feel like every time I look at those letters it's just going to spill out of me all at once and they'll hate me for keeping it from them. So I can't, not yet."

Finally, an explanation. Draco nodded, tucking the balled up fabric into his jacket pocket.

"We'll have to face everyone soon." He pointed out. Hermione seemed better now that it was with him. She took in a few gasping breaths.

"I know. And by then, I'll be ready. Just not today."

Draco leaned forward and kissed her forehead, "Of course. Can you take a break from your translating?" He asked. Hermione gave a nod.

"Yes, I feel like if I continue staring at it, I'll just miss something." She grinned, looking at the bulky thing she called a 'Tee-Vee' that she'd insisted on bringing in, "I am going to continue to culture you in the ways of muggles," She decided.

Draco groaned playfully, but admittedly in the last four or five days she'd shown him her favorite 'movies' and he'd found them…enjoyable. It was such a strange form of entertainment, so different than anything else he had. The only comparable thing was the screens that played the Green Games, but this was nothing bad, only good.

"What today?" He asked, leaning back on the couch while Hermione pulled out a large book of little discs.

"Dirty Dancing or Ferris Buller's Day Off?" She questioned.

"I don't know what either of those are," He said, but lunged forward to drag Hermione onto his lap, "But I think I like the sound of the first one," He whispered against her neck. She shivered, and Draco smirked.

"It's one of my favorites," Hermione gasped, trying to regain her breath, "And you are incorrigible." Draco shrugged, letting her off so she could load the movie. Even if they weren't 'dating' they could still enjoy each other physically, at times. Sure, it had only been a couple days and they really hadn't done much more than slightly-heated kissing but Draco was sure more was going to come of it. So far, Hermione hadn't asked him to stop.

The movie was enjoyable, full of dancing (as the title suggested), catchy tunes, and watermelon. Hermione's whole face was alight as she watched it and she mouthed nearly the entire movie. That was half the fun of it for Draco.

Before the movie had even ended, she'd fallen asleep and Draco carried her up to the bedroom and tucked her in. As much as he so very much wanted to stay with her, curl up next to her, he'd promised his father they'd go out to lunch, so he left her a note.

Lunch with his father was…exactly as expected. He didn't ask about Hermione, he didn't offer anything up. His father was a warmer person, though, since his son had been reaped and made it through alive. There was a part of him that seemed more…ready to fight. Many times during their lunch did Draco nearly bring up the revolution he'd been looped into, but he just couldn't find the right words.

Later that night, he sat pacing in his room. That damn stone was in his cabinet drawer, but he understood why Hermione might have been going mad. It was haunting him.

And he was so close to not giving in. So close, he felt he would have been able to just deny its presence, if not for a missile sent his way. Snape updated him whenever another funeral had been arranged, and this particularly one…it was about Colin's. Of course, Snape had zero idea what the boy had meant to Draco, but getting this now? Sadness so overwhelming it knocked him to his knees washed over him for a second, and that was all it took.

That was it, Draco decided, as he unfurled the long strand of fabric to unveil the tiniest stone he'd ever seen. Had Hermione not stressed the importance of it, he would have never guessed it was so extraordinary.

He grasped it in his palm; pressing so hard he was sure one of the sharp edges would break the skin.

"Please, please," He whispered to the universe, "Bring me-,"

"Draco?"

Draco turned, nearly dropping the stone. He stared at the apparition in front of him for a couple seconds, although it wasn't quite an apparition for when he went forward and pressed his hands upon the man's chest, it was sturdy. He nearly laughed, nearly cried.

"Holy Merlin, it works." He said, but then, his shock dissolved away as he looked at the stone.

"Hoping for someone else?" The person asked, walking over and sitting on Draco's bed, "Just as I remember it," They said sadly, "But then again, Draco Malfoy has never been one big on change." It almost sounded like a jab, "Or, he used to not…"

"It's been a long time since we knew each other, truly, Blaise." He murmured, looking down. He didn't answer the first question, but Blaise seemed to know.

"I'm sorry I'm so unwelcome," He gave a languid roll of his eyes, and flopped back on Draco's bed.

"When you die, do you..re-collect?" Draco asked, trying to carefully form a question, "I mean, if someone were to have been blown apart in this life would they-,"

"The Creevy kid," Blaise narrowed his eyes, "You love these Gryffindors these days, don't you?" He asked, and Draco locked his jaw, "But rest assured, buddy, we become our best selves in the afterlives. Otherwise, you'd be staring at a kid with his throat ripped out, which, hey, your girlfriend did, remember?"

"I do," Draco hissed, "So what? Are you here to haunt me because of that? Unable to move on?"

"We weren't able to, originally." Blaise said, "Because of who we were," He looked down, unhappy, "But Pike turning the last second? It saved all of us- me, Daphne, Tracy, Corner, from a life as just wraiths."

"And Pansy?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"I dunno man. Haven't been able to feel her spirit in the other world. I don't think there was enough of her left." He said, almost sounding sad. Draco got it, a bit. There was a time, long ago, when she had been their childhood friend. And yes, she'd turned into a murdering psychopath in the games, but other than that? Did anyone really deserve any of it?

"Hermione said that you couldn't control who comes to you. Maybe the dead control it." Draco sat beside his friend. It was easy to forget Blaise was dead, when he was so, full next to him, so alive looking…almost, at least. His skin was a horrible ashy shade.

"I think I was thinking about you, brother," Blaise's voice was rough, "How we were as kids. How I sort of regret the path I went." He stared at his hands, "I thought it would keep me alive. Turns out, it didn't, so, yeah…I'm just really sorry." It almost sounded like Blaise was crying.

"Oh, damn it, Zabini," Draco said, his voice hoarse as he stared out at the window in his bedroom, also trying not to tear up. Unexpectedly, Blaise wrapped his arms around Draco, patting his back. Draco stiffened for a second, before hugging back.

"I miss you, dude," Blaise murmured, "Afterlife isn't the same without you."

"I miss you too, brother," Draco admitted. When he opened his eyes, Blaise's figure was gone, but his scent remained. Draco sat with his arms clutching air for a couple seconds, before startling out of it. The stone dropped with a 'clink' to the floor.

He stared at it like a venomous bug for a couple seconds before hastily wrapping it back up in the cloth and this time locking it in his drawer. Hermione was right…this thing was dangerous.

But he was glad he saw Blaise. He'd been doing his best not to talk about him. His father had tried to broach that subject, and since Hermione had been the one to kill him (unintentionally) that had gone about as well as anyone could guess. In other words; not well.

And even though he'd told Colin what seemed like years ago that him and Blaise hadn't been friends for a long time, that didn't mean Draco couldn't still miss him. That didn't mean that if things were different that one-day maybe they wouldn't have reconnected. It didn't mean that this meeting hadn't shaken Draco to the core.

Because it did. And he began to contemplate just how much the games had taken from him, or what future opportunities they'd taken. And if was just the first year of Slytherins. For just a moment, he fully understood what Hermione had been going through for years.

And he'd kill anyone who tried to tell him Hermione wasn't strong because to go through this year after year and still be breathing was the most impressive thing he thought anyone could bear.

GREENGAMES

There was a breakthrough three days before their precious time alone, unbothered, was up. Hermione was determined to make head-way of this text she'd been given. Quite unusual, the text, in that there was seemingly nothing unusual about it at all. She'd translated the whole thing, each and every world. And while sometimes her word choice varied between sentence-to-sentence, overall there wasn't an extra line or a missing line or anything to show here what she was supposed to be seeing in this book.

So she took to spell casting next, which was of course a dangerous gamble. She didn't want to blow the cover off it or set it on fire or anything, so her ability to try to maybe uncover something was very limited. She thought maybe the book itself had been transformed into this ordinary object, but no…Dumbledore had truly bequeathed Draco, indirectly, a book. Just as he'd bequeathed her his wand…

Hermione tapped her own wand to her temple, something she did when she was feeling nervous or anxious. It wasn't even about having her wand; it was about having a wand in her hand. Reminded her of simpler times.

But maybe that continual tapping was what she needed, because as she was flipping through the pages absently, her eye caught something. She pressed the book open to 'The Tale of Three Brothers'. In the corner of the page was a symbol, one Hermione was positive she'd seen somewhere before, but for the life of her it was escaping her thoughts. But there was a symbol here; something there wasn't anywhere else.

She sat back; could it be so simple? Was this Dumbledore's way of marking things? Or was this merely part of the text?

She toyed with the idea of the latter, thinking she was now just seeing things in her overworked brain, but the more and more she stared at it, the more she was absolutely sure that this was significant.

She grabbed the book from the desk and threw on a pair of shoes before walking across to the Malfoy Manor, looming impressively over her tiny cottage. She hadn't been outside, not properly, in days. But she hadn't a reason to, not truly. Draco would argue- oh, she was quite aware how worried he was- but now she felt like she wanted to be out. They'd made progress on something.

"Hermione! Are you hurt? Are you dying?" Draco questioned as soon as she walked through the door. Thank Merlin he'd been walking through the parlor when she arrived. She'd successfully avoided his parents so far, except for on the first day here when she shared awkward niceties with Draco's mother and his father just lurked in the background like a salty cat. She hadn't thought as far as having to ask them where Draco was, so she was pleased.

"Do you know what this symbol is?" She asked breathlessly, shoving it in Draco's hands.

"It's not in the runic list?" He squinted, bringing it closer to him.

"No, I don't think it is. And this is the only story that has any sort of mark, picture, anything! And it's not in the text, it's before it. I think this is what we're supposed to find, Draco." She said, tapping the page.

He looked about ready to argue, but once he looked up and saw the determination on his face, he nodded.

"Should we…" He waffled in his spot, looking out the door and back into his house. Hermione had only ever been as far as his library. The place didn't seem as scary now that she was so excited.

"Well, I've gone through all the books that might have helped us in my place," Hermione thought, "Do you think your library might have something else?"

"Please," Draco scoffed, "My library has answers to everything."

Hermione gave a grin, "Must have been nice, growing up like that," She said longingly. She then took a moment to look down at herself, "Merlin…I think I need a shower or at least some new clothes."

She turned to go back to her cottage, but Draco caught her arm, "C'mon. You can shower in my place. I'll bring some books up to my room and have some food made. You hungry?" He asked, and her stomach growled before she could play it off casually.

"Do you usually do this? Was this how you were around exams at Hogwarts?" Draco questioned, looking her up and down, "It can't be healthy." He shook his head.

"Well, never like this," Hermione admitted blushing, "Nothing was ever as…important. And in my younger years, I had Harry, and then later, Ron…and after that, well by the time Ron and I weren't speaking it just seemed so…pointless to study for these finals, year after year when we might have just been plucked to die anyway." She began to blabber, and then caught herself, "But I guess yes, I get like this." She decided.

"So I should have forced you out? Stopped you?" Draco asked a little guiltily, "I'm just used to people sorta minding their own business and-,"

"Draco, stop. Do you really think you could have dragged me away?" She asked with a pointed look. He chuckled.

"No, of course not." He realized.

He led her into his room, something she realized she'd never seen, much less thought about. It looked like a room a Malfoy would like. Well, she'd seen his bed when they brought that to the games, and little bits of furniture. It had been impressive then, but now- in the space it was designed for- it was stunning. She'd never thought a room could be so beautiful and yet, here she was.

"Bathroom's this way. I'll get food and stuff while you're in there and try to find some books that might pertain to this." He said. Hermione nodded, walking into his also impossibly beautiful bathroom. Everything was so clean.

She peeled away her clothes and set her beaded bag on the counter top. By the time she'd finished, using Draco's array of hair and soap products (more than Hermione ever had) she felt very refreshed and bright again. Stepping out of the shower, she saw just on the edge of the counter was a pile of clothing. She held it up and looked at them; not hers, but her size. They weren't…ostentatious, not like that, but they weren't exactly what Hermione might have picked out herself. They were beautiful, though.

She put them on, wondering for a horrifying second if they were his mother's, but since she only had her dirty things with her, she couldn't complain.

"Oh good, they fit," Draco said absently as she came out of the shower, brushing her fingers through her hair.

"Where did you get these?" She asked warily.

"I had some purchased when you first moved here. You know, because you don't have a lot of clothes. And we'll have to go out eventually and you should have options. Not saying you can't buy your own stuff," He added, looking up, appraising her, "But as much as I might like, we can't run around naked." He said and then innocently looked at her, "Sandwich?" He offered.

Hermione opened her mouth, maybe to yell, maybe to stutter out something, but in the end just said, "Thank you."

Between them sat a pile of books. They read in silence for a while, the only sound the sound of them munching on their lunch, the turning of pages, and frustrated groans and another book was added to an ever-growing pile of 'non helpful'. So far, in all his books on symbols, this one hadn't appeared yet.

"Maybe…" Hermione sighed, reaching over and grabbing her beaded bag, "I might have…borrowed some books from the restricted section of the library, ones that McGonagall might have given me the impression of that they were ones that shouldn't fall into the wrong hands. Perhaps it's all connected…" She shook out her bag, and what seemed like the contents of an entire house landed at her feet.

Draco instantly snatched up something silver and shiny.

"So, I gotta know…this is how Potter avoided everything back then, huh?" He asked, running his fingers over the invisibility cloak.

"Of course," Hermione gave a small grin as she basked in memories, "He wasn't a great spell caster, so thank Merlin his family had this."

"You know, it saved your life so I can't complain but I swear…" Draco trailed off, as though only processing what Hermione had just said, "Family?" He pulled a face.

"Yes. It was his father's, and his father's before that and I don't know how many generations and such, but…what's that face?" Hermione titled her head as Draco held up the fabric.

"The hell is this?" He whispered under his breath before turning to Hermione, "Look, invisibility cloaks are expensive but sort of like a gag joke or something. They don't last more than a couple years and after like ten or so they start loosing their ability. You're trying to tell me this thing has been handed down through at least four generations?" He said, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, we know it's been around at least seven years. Does it look faded to you?" Hermione said a little angrily, angry Draco would suggest that this was something that was going to fade. Draco threw it on himself and gave a noise of surprise.

"No, it's not." He said, startled a bit.

"Harry got it when he was just a first year," Hermione said, smiling at the memory of how excited he'd been, "Dumbledore gave it to him, saying it had belonged to his father."

"Why did Dumbldore have it?" Draco questioned.

"Dunno," Hermione gave a small shrug, "All he told Harry is he had wanted to examine it further, whatever that means, and he feels terrible because some part of him wondered if Harry's parents had had it that night, if maybe things would have turned out differently," Hermione whispered, finding it hard to re-tell it.

"Differently…it's not like this cloak, it's just a cloak." Draco scoffed, "Sometimes when Death comes, you can't avoid it."

"We've avoided spells in this cloak." Hermione said defesivly, "Third year when Harry got that map, the one that Voldemort later took, and you can't see yourself on it. And any reveling spells don't work on this. I mean, I'm sure if someone sent a hex directly at us under it, it might do something but we've never tried." She said, as though for a second forgetting Ron and Harry were gone.

"This is very strange indeed," Draco rubbed the fabric between two fingers. He groaned, "Why is everything Dumbledore gives us so elusive? Why couldn't he have written us a nice little note about how to fix things?"

"No kidding," Hermione sighed, "I don't think this cloak could avoid death, but the thought is still nice." She murmured.

"Avoid death…" Draco echoed softly, frowning. He grabbed the book.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"My father," He said. Hermione snatched the back of Draco's shirt.

"Can we trust him?" She hissed imploringly.

Draco pressed his lips together. "I believe we can." He said, "If I…I think my dad will do anything for me. And he's not Voldemort's biggest fan since I got picked." He added dryly. Before Hermione could stop him, he'd wrenched from her grip and taken off down the hall.

"Draco!" Hermione hissed, running after him. When she finally caught up, he'd already entered his father's study. She hung back watching as he set the book in front of him.

"Dad, do you know what this symbol is?" He asked. His father glanced at Hermione, hiding in the doorway, then back at Draco. He tapped the book, clearing his throat.

His father looked down, "Why, yes. It's the symbol of the Deathly Hallows," He gave a wry grin, "Something all wizards far over their heads often try to achieve."

"The what?" Draco's face was empty.

"Well, it's the belief that the story of these three brothers and their items they had aren't just a myth. I think it is now, but I admit in my youth I once tried to track one down…with obviously no luck, as I think it's just-,"

But Draco had gone stiff and pale.

"And, theoretically, father," He said, cutting his father off, "If one were to…have these objects…"

"Well they'd obviously be very powerful, as they're made by death itself. And if someone had all three…" His dad gave a low whistle, "Well, they'd be the Master of Death. Nearly invincible, one would say. Why the interest?" His eyes narrowed like the curious snake he was.

"Oh," Draco did a good job of seeming totally casual; something Hermione had never quite grasped the art of, "I just found this book in all my things. Didn't recognize this symbol, though I know the story and mum read it to me a thousand times as a kid," He rolled his eyes, "Made you read it to me too."

"Yes, wherever did you get this copy?" His father asked, but before he could seek further, Draco pulled it away.

"Found it while cleaning my dorm. Don't know where it came from." He said. Hermione wondered how truly he trusted his father, "Anyway, Hermione and I still have loads to prepare before, well, you know." All it took was sending his father one half-puppy dog glance and his father just softened, a look Hermione didn't think was possible.

"I know how hard it will be for you, son," He said, his words not meant for Hermione, and she felt like an intruder, "Blaise and Daphne and Pansy…I'm sorry." He said sincerely. Draco looked sad. Maybe he was, actually?

"It's just…I don't think I've realized it yet." He said, stuffing the book under his arm, "Anyway…see you later. Thanks, dad."

"Sure, anytime," His father said, frowning as Draco came back to Hermione. He walked just as quickly back to the bedroom.

"Draco, I don't understand." Hermione sighed, "What's the big deal."

Draco grabbed the cloak, throwing it on the bed. He undid a lock in his drawer and threw the wadded ball that Hermione knew had the stone also on the bed.

"A invisibility cloak that has survived far past its time that Dumbledore thought could avoid death. A stone that brings loved ones back from the dead, but at great risk. Does this sound familiar at all?" He said, each word hard and meaningful.

It took a second. She was ashamed it even took that long. She felt the breath catch in her throat and she lifted her finger to her lips, shaking her head.

"You don't think-,"

"I absolutely do think that we have two of the three hallows. And they're very much real." Draco said, staring down at them, "Just, I wonder where the Elder Wand is…"

"Draco," Hermione's voice was deathly soft, "I…I had this weird dream right after we won, I saw Dumbledore. He didn't say anything that sounded important, but he lead me to discovering the stone and we dueled and he made me disarm him and when I woke up I had this." She pulled out a wand from a pile, "It was his."

"You can't possibly be thinking that this is it," Draco's voice was quiet.

"I do." Hermione gave a grave nod, "I mean, think about it! Dumbledore was a master and his dueling skills were legendary. We all know he got this wand from Grindewald in his epic battle. I mean, I think maybe we all thought it was a trophy but what if it was so much more! And he mad me disarm him, he didn't just hand this to me, he made it so it was a show of power and I…" She set the wand by the other two and the three shapes- the triangle, the circle, the line- all merged into one in her mind. And there was a sensation of rightness all three together, a power that settled over both of their skin like ambrosia seeping into their blood vein.

"Holy shit, Hermione," Draco's eyes widened, "You are the master of death."

"Me?" Hermione jumped, "I…I can't be!"

"It's not that hard to imagine. You survived death not once, but twice! We all know that the first time, with me, you should have died. And you came back. And the second time, Voldemort says he fixed you, but you were bleeding out…you looked dead." The memory brought a haunted look to Draco's eyes.

"What…what do I do with this?" She questioned, staring at the three objects.

"There's gotta be more than just this," Draco said, placing both hands on his lips, thinking, "You can't just walk up to Voldermort and win. I mean, it's just a legend and such and it says you can win any battle, but let's not chance it."

"No, you're right," Hermione's shoulders dropped, "There's more."

Draco turned, grinning, "Hey. We figured this out! This is huge, you know," He leaned forward and grabbed her, spinning her around and kissing her firmly, "We'll get there. And once we tell the Order, they'll get there too. So many minds all working together…it's going to happen."

Hermione's fingers snaked in his hair and she gave a soft smile, "I hope so. I have to hope for the sake of everything we can."

Draco paused, stepping back, "I think we deserve a night of watching movies and relaxing, don't you? Nope, no arguing. That's what's gunna happen. C'mon let's scoop you're entire life back into this darn bag and tomorrow we can worry bout what to do with this information."

For once, Hermione didn't entirely mind someone bossing her around.

GREENGAMES

"This is entirely too much," Hermione pouted, looking at her reflection in the mirror, "I feel weird wearing something so expensive." She said, turning to see the flounce of her dress in the mirror.

"Malkin's was probably way more expensive than that," Draco pointed out, scoffing as he did up his cufflinks.

"But I didn't have a choice," Hermione turned to him, hands on her hips, "I'd feel much better if I wore something that I brought with me-,"

"No," Draco said swiftly, "I've seen your trunk contents. The best dress you have, that floral one, did you get that when you were thirteen?" His teasing was light, but it still hit a nerve.

"So what!" She threw out her hands; "It's done me perfectly well up until now." She said in a sour tone. Draco's eyes bulged.

"I was joking about it being from third year, Merlin…" He muttered. He sighed, standing up to place his hands on her shoulder, "Look, Granger," He said, that nickname so far only reserved when he was getting hot and heavy with her or when he wanted to make a point, "When you were fourteen you hardly were a woman. Now, you most certainly are one and you gotta play to your…figure." He purred.

"Ew!" From the doorway, Hannah slapped her hand over her eyes and backed away, "If you're going to invite me over, can you please not do that?" She asked.

"We weren't doing anything, Hannah." Hermione said, but her face was blushing and told a very different story. Or, what she'd rather be doing, maybe.

"Yeah, I mean, we know where your mind is, being newly engaged and all." He chortled and Hannah uncovered her eyes to send him an absolutely scathing glare.

"Hermione," She said, taking in Hermione's form in an appropriate, yet modern, light blue dress, "You look really nice."

Draco preened proudly.

"I feel so strange in it." Hermione gave up her fight, just looking down at it and frowning, "Like it's not my style."

"Well, you're style is…interesting." Hannah winced, "We're going to be out in public."

Hermione glanced between her best friend and her boyfriend, "I really hate the few times you two are in agreement."

"We're going to be wearing awful black things for the next couple weeks," Hannah flopped on Hermione's bed, "We might as well make today count, right?" She asked.

"We should get going," Draco said, checking the time on his wand, "It's going to start soon."

"Why does it matter?" Hannah turned over on her stomach, looking up at him, "It's not our items being auctioned off…"

"I have my reasons," Draco snapped, although Hermione had thought he'd been in a good mood previously. She didn't even want to touch this one.

"We might as well go soon," Hermione agreed with a longing tone, "And get it over with."

"What does she mean?" Hannah turned to Draco.

"Hermione's been systematically avoiding anyone who owls her." Draco said, ignoring the pointed and betrayed look she gave him. Hannah frowned at Hermione, opening her mouth, but didn't say anything. Her look did that itself. Hermione looked down, feeling shame and yet a flicker of indignation. She had nothing to say to these people yet, nothing that would sooth their hearts or make them not worry about her. It was easier to pretend like she'd fallen off the face of the earth.

"Well, we shouldn't delay," Draco said, holding out his hand to Hermione. After a long moment, she took it. Hannah grabbed her other hand. Together, the three of them apparated to the large auction platform.

Hermione tried to hide her face upon arrival, but it was useless as the hounds of newspapers descended on the three newest victors.

Draco ignored them with simple 'no comment', herding Hermione to the auction table. Hannah held her own, answering questions when she pleased, but mostly just giving them the finger.

He picked up an auction paddle, handing one to Hermione and Hannah. Both girls looked at him quizzically.

"Why would we need these?" Hannah said, flapping her number '67'.

"In case inspiration hits you, I suppose," Draco said flatly and started moving toward their seats, near the front, reserved for them. Hermione bit her lip, looking around.

"I'm going to get some water," She announced, her throat feeling dry and heavy.

"I can come with you," Draco offered but she shook her head.

"I'm fine," She hadn't seen anyone she wanted to avoid yet, thankfully. And if she did…well, Hermione could become stealth like at the best of times.

She found a water bottle and cracked open the seal and had drunk half the bottle even before returning to her seat. She was absent-mindedly staring around at the milling people when someone grabbed her arm and shoved her into a hall. She shoved him hard with her left hand and he flew back into 'omph'.

"Fredrick Weasley!" She cried, both very annoyed and very mortified, "You can't just do that to a girl who just came out of a game of murder!" She snapped, half-tempted to throw her water bottle at him.

"I had to make sure you were still alive," Fred snapped, angry- no, furious, "I haven't heard a thing from you in nearly two weeks!"

"I think it would be all over the news if I died," Hermione said, looking down and playing with the cap of the bottle.

"Is Malfoy not letting you talk to anyone? I always knew he was bad knews, you know." Fred jumped to suddenly, pulling her in, "If he's doing anything, you can-,"

"Merlin, Fred, no!" Hermione's eyes widened, "It's me." She managed to spit out, "I'm the one not answering. Draco actually encouraged me to answer at least you." Hermione's lip twitched to almost a smile, "I think he's terrified you'd come knocking on the manor door."

"I nearly did." Fred crossed his arms, "Hermione," He gave a long sigh, "Are you…okay?" He put a lot of emphasis on 'okay'.

"Were you…after you won?" Hermione answered dully.

"No, but I was never like this." He said, shaking his head, "You won, Hermione. Don't let yourself die after going through all this, and I'm talking about your spirit. It would be exactly what Voldemort wanted…a strong girl like you to just wither."

Hermione's expression sharpened. Firstly, she wasn't withering nor was she just…standing down! She was helping Draco take him down, clearly something Fred wasn't in on. And secondly, how dare he. But, the anger only lasted for a second before she felt just…empty wash through her.

"Fred, I'm just so alone." She admitted, "Not like you're thinking, but my entire grade has been nearly wiped out." She said, her mind counting off all those empty beds at Hogwarts, "The kids I met as a first-year…there's hardly any of us left! Do you know how that feels? Almost all your classmates made it out. The ones of us that are left," Hermione felt her lip quiver and she didn't want to cry in front of Fred, "And then there's you and your mom and I couln't save Ron. And Dean, he's owled and I couldn't save Seamus. And Lavender died in my arms, and Elizabeth- and his twin looks just like her!"

"Survivor's guilt," Fred whispered softly, "None of us…blame you at all." He said, "No one, I swear. We all get it, Hermione," He rubbed her arm in a brotherly manner, "And we just want you to get better."

"Did you hear my parents? At the carpet?" Hermione asked, "I've been owling them daily, but I just can't…" She shook her head slowly; "I don't know how to acclimate to this world now."

"It's not something you do all at once, trust me." Fred assured, "And you'll go mad without people, not just Malfoy or Hannah, but others. People that weren't in the games too. Ginny asks about you all the time, thinking maybe I have some secret line to you. And Neville was so excited to talk to you."

"Great," Hermione said, feeling something curl up on herself, "More people I've disappointed."

"No, that came out wrong," Fred winced, "I mean, they'll always be yoru friends. Don't shut them out."

The bell dinged to alert people that the auction would be starting soon.

"Do you have a seat? Of course, you're probably up front." Fred amended his own question, "Promise me you'll find me after? Maybe come to the Burrow? You don't even have to eat but I think you'll still find it enjoyable."

Hermione gnawed on her lip. "I'll think about it," She mumbled, but internally, she was sure she wasn't going.

She sat down next to Draco, and she saw him look at her hard, but didn't comment. She wiped her palms over her face to sponge away any moisture, because she felt she was very close to crying after talking to Fred.

"Hermione, what-,"

"Fine, I'm fine." Hermione snapped before Hannah could even get the question out. There must have been something dangerous in her tone for Hannah shut up.

The auctions started with the first dead; Wayne- as it would continue on in the order from there. There were parents here, sobbing figures in the background as their children's effects were paraded onto the stage and set out with a flourish like decorative plates for sale or something equally ostentatious. But it wasn't such; it was a favorite jumper, a teddy bear it seemed they had since birth, a journal filled with personalized notes. It left a sour taste in Hermione's mouth to see these things. They were so utterly intimate. She never knew Wayne liked to garden or that Mandy collected snow globes.

She felt like she understood them through their items.

There were Slytherins there, and obviously not that Hermione wanted to classify a whole house together because she was dating one, for lack of a better term, but these were classmates and older alumni of Draco's that seemed to be there only to cause pain and suffering. What did they want with Fay Dunbar's collection of shoes, anyway? It seemed they only existed here to aggravate parents with tear-stained faces trying to collect something left of their children.

Hannah bid on Hufflepuffs, Hermione went for Gryffindors. There was that unspoken acknowledgement that not all the parents here would ever be able to compete with the families that had endless money. It seemed a truth that certain children's favorite things would never return home just because this was based in money, not love.

She realized about half-way through that Draco had also started bidding on particular sets; one of people she never thought he cared about. Elizabeth's…she expected him to go for that, obviously. But Michael Corner's? Luna's? Even Lavenders? What game was he playing?

"I have so much money," He whispered and Hermione realized with a growing embarrassment she'd been whispering out-loud, "And these parents that can't afford their children's trunks? It's the same game you've been playing," His voice was even, like an untouched pond, but she saw a pain beneath his eyes.

Hannah's response was a choked noise, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but never let anyone tell you that you aren't a good man, Draco." She whispered, "And that's the last time I'll ever give you a compliment of such a caliber."

"Noted," Draco said, lips turning upward, "We can't let people that want nothing more than to make fools of them, of us, can we?" He asked.

Hermione felt her gaze slid back to the group of raucous Slytherins and other purebloods sitting a couple rows behind them, dispassionately waving their paddles and snickering. "No, we can't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think at this point I have one, maybe two chapters left. Defiantly not more than 2. It all just depends how long a particular scene I added into my outline last min lasts, because if that scene wasn't there originally it would for sure be one, but now I really think it's two...maybe one very long chapter and one last tie-up epilogue. Ah, who can tell? Only time, I guess...not even me...the author.
> 
> But I do have lots of this planned for after this wraps up, I'll still be writing furiously! As of now, here's the unposted things I'm working on-
> 
> 1) Seamus/Hermione oneshot which I will post before this story wraps up, so either between this chapter and the end if it seems it will be one chapter, or right before the last one.
> 
> 2) Murven one-shot set in the years on the Ark
> 
> 3) Jactavia supposed to be a one-shot now turned into a muchbiggerthing...
> 
> 4) Zombie!AU the 100 multichap
> 
> 5) The Selection!AU for Zutara
> 
> 6) Bughead Prince/Princess!AU
> 
> Tell me what you thought!


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for sure the second to last chapter. The last chapter might not even be 20 pages long, but it's very important stuff. Or it might be. Who knows?

Hermione had never known what to say at funerals. As a child, when her parents had dragged her to the death of a old neighbor or a businessman from her town, she'd been sad but hadn't ever known how to say the right words. She felt like just saying 'I'm sorry' wasn't enough, wasn't real. But to say anything else would sound callous or rude and so mostly Hermione just sat silent, trying to look like she was truly upset. She hoped her emotions spoke louder to the bereaved mourners than any words could say.

When she began Hogwarts and later when the Games started, Hermione found herself at a lot of funerals. She acquired a large collection of black garments that she couldn't bring herself to touch otherwise, because when she looked at this dress or those slacks she saw herself sitting for Percy's or Harry's or Cho's funeral. And so many more.

And in those instances, words were even less obvious! When someone died in a car crash or of natural causes, it was sad. When a child was killed in the Green Games it was more nauseating. What was the proper etiquette? To compliment their fighting style, or lack thereof? To say that they gave a good effort? To wish they hadn't been picked? The first two might be perceived as caring too little and the third too much. It was stupid. Someone was always picked. If it weren't these people, it would be others. The agony would just be handed off to another family. And, up until this year, she couldn't claim to know what they went through.

After all that, here she was, sitting in silent frustration at the desk in Draco's cottage. It was customary for the remaining wizards or witches to give the eulogy at the funerals of those who perished in their games. They were required to attend all of them…this year, all 21 of them. And Hermione was even less sure of how to say things now. Not when she'd been directly responsible for some deaths, and not directly, indirectly. Not when it was almost too painful for her to talk about this, how could she get up in front of the dead one's family and act like some part of her wasn't glad they were dead because it meant she was alive?

Draco was sitting at a chair in the corner, biting the tip of his quill. Hannah was sprawled across her bed, laying on her back with her head half-way off the edge, holding her sheets above her head with her one good arm, scowling.

Only one was required to give a eulogy at each, so they'd broken up the tasks. Gryffindors to Hermione, Hufflepuffs to Hannah, Slytherins to Draco. As for the Ravenclaws, it had been slightly more difficult, but an agreement was reached. Hermione took Luna's and Mandy's. Draco took Elizabeth's and Corner's- only because Hannah swore up and down that if she took Corner's it would just be a lot of swear words. This left Hannah with Cal's and Duke's…although she admitted she hadn't known either particularly well. But, she was a kind girl so Hermione was sure she'd do just fine.

Hermione's mother had always told Hermione, when she complained about funerals and her lack of speech, that with age she'd find the words and become better at it. Hermione hadn't thought so…she'd always been tactless in situations that escaped her. And if anything, with age she'd become less sure how to handle it, not more sure.

And she had eight eulogies to write, and only two more days.

Hermione had written Ron's at least eight times already. Her problem was she had too many words to say for his. But, it was still as difficult because each draft seemed wronger and wronger than the last. She wanted to talk about everything. She wanted them to remember everything. She didn't want to let him go. At least, if worst came to worst, she had something.

Lavender's was short but caring. Hermione would acknowledge her role in Lavender's death, but she hoped she could convince the people there that there wasn't a better choice. She would talk about how she didn't want to, tell the one story she had of their friendship, and that was all it was.

Faye's was the most generic, so far. At least Mandy had been at school all seven years. Hermione would talk about what she recalled of Faye from the first and last year she attended school, and hoped that would suffice.

Luna's…well, Hermione was trying to make it whimsical. She would talk about Ron in that one too, about their love. About how pure it was. She balled Luna's up eight or nine times too, because nothing seemed as carefree as the girl she was writing it about. Hermione had always been grounded in logic and fact, two things Luna was not. And she wanted to celebrate that, despite their differences, but she didn't know how to say how.

Mandy's was second most generic, next to Faye's. Mandy had been strong and athletic, two things Hermione also was not, and she'd made it pretty far. From that, Hermione could talk about her skill and her endurance, since one needed both to nearly make it to the end.

Seamus's…merlin, she couldn't touch that one. Not yet.

And then, Colin's.

She glanced over at Draco, who she figured was having a shittier time than she was. He had a lot of people the public disliked by the end; people Draco had cut ties with himself.

"Hey, Draco," Hermione said, causing him to look up, "I…uhm, I know you were closer with Colin than I ever was, even if you only knew him in the games. I can take Pike's eulogy, if you'd like."

She felt she had to, for Pike. She promised she'd try to clear his name. Draco still had no knowledge of what conspired in between time, and she wasn't sure what kept her from telling him.

"You really hate Pike." Draco pointed out.

"I accept him and what he did to let us win," Hermione replied with a causal shrug, or she thought it might be casual. Either way, she truly did think Draco should take Colin's.

"No, I just…you keep yours. I'll do Pike's, it's fine." Draco said. Hermione didn't understand. Did he think her comment was out of sympathy for him?

"I think you'd know what to say more." Hermione said, trying to let him know that really, he'd be better with Colin's.

"Hermione, just do Creevy's, okay?" Draco snapped, going from fine to frustrated in a second.

"But you-,"

"No! Just don't fuck with what we already decided, alright?" He said, standing, "Merlin, I need air," He muttered, going past them and slamming the door.

"What…?" Hermione squinted after him.

"You gotta imagine it's tough for him. Talking about Blaise…Daphne…Tracey…Pansy…Pike…even Corner." Hannah said, flipping to her stomach, "That would make me surly too."

"Then why wouldn't he want to change to talk about someone he liked, then?" Hermione said, "I just don't understand."

"Nothing is simple now, Hermione," Hannah said, looking down at her stack of papers, "We're all mixed up, haven't you realized." Hermione looked back at her own papers, scratching her head. She was right. Reasonable responses weren't reasonable anymore.

"Hmm," She sighed quietly, "Now I feel bad."

"You couldn't have known. He should still apologize, though," Hannah said, "No reason to snap like that." She paused, "How is Seamus' coming?"

"It's not."

"What are you going to say?"

"Merlin, Hannah, I don't know." Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, "I mean, I…we…but I can't say that!" Hermione couldn't even finish her sentence, blushing bright red.

"No one knew him like you did, at least, not in his last moments. You could." Hannah pointed out.

"I can't," Hermione said firmly, "It's just not something I think the world wants to hear about." She said dryly, but in reality, it was she did not want to tell. Her memories with Seamus were sacred and she'd be damned if anyone took those away from her. It was so selfish.

Hannah was starting to arrange her papers into little piles, "But he saved your life, if I recall, huh?" She said. Hermione closed her eyes, wincing. Apparently, this was answer enough, "Talk about him doing that. Everyone knows that. Seamus was good. He was always good." Hannah said, looking up to meet Hermione's eyes.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "Perhaps too good."

Hannah snorted.

Hermione choose not to reply with a biting comment, but instead noticed that there was a certain number of piles; 8.

"Are you already done?" Hermione asked, eyebrows rising in shock.

"Uh-huh."

"How…you're…Merlin!" Hermione said, coming over and picked up one- it was Wayne's- and indeed it was full and complete looking.

"I just don't care anymore." Hannah said, "Not them, I mean!" She rushed to correct herself, "I just don't care of what others think I should say or do. I lost friends too. I am mourning too. I was forced and I had to choose. And if anyone wants to say something, they can go through the bloody games and then get back to me," Hermione said, practically spitting venom, "And I doubt anyone whose been through those games will be arguing." She paused, "Because…I only killed one person. Pansy. And I wish she could have been saved, but she couldn't have been. We all know that."

Hermione looked over and felt bad about herself, in a rush. Here was Hannah, who although she put up this bravado, was still the nicest person Hermione knew. Hermione would likely have said that Pansy was a hell beast that should have been wiped from earth a long time ago, but Hannah did truly seem contrite about it.

Hannah was much too good of a person to be hanging around Hermione, who had killed many more and probably deserved to feel guilty.

"I wish I could be strong like you," Hermione said, and that was the truth.

"You'll get there," Hannah said, patting her shoulder, "You're Hermione Granger. There's nothing you can't do." She said, passing her, "You got food in this place?"

TGG

Draco didn't return until late into the night, late after Hannah had already gone, with her completed piles of eulogies. She would sleep well tonight.

The first two would be tomorrow, and they went in the order of the deaths. Wayne, then Faye. Although Hermione had Faye's completed to a point of at least tolerance, it was Seamus' she still worried over. She'd gotten as far as to say that Seamus was an example to everyone in selflessness before her fingers just couldn't bear to write another word.

Draco's shadow cast upon her page, and she looked up. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking meek.

"I…I yelled at you today. That was uncalled for."

"We're all on edge about this," Hermione said, putting down her quill that hadn't written a word in over an hour.

"Still," Draco sat on the edge of her bed, "Still working on it?"

"Seamus'." She said. Draco gave a sound, rubbing his temples.

"I didn't think you'd be at a loss for words about him." Draco's tone was hard to read. Hermione wasn't sure if he was fishing or just being honest.

"I…there's so much I could say but so much I feel like I can't." Hermione spun on her swivel chair, the one thing she'd requested from the muggle world- to Draco's confusion- "That he'd been irrevocably in love with me forever? That he was so much better to me than I could have ever been to him? That I feel cheated over something I'm not sure would have even worked out? That I gave my virginity to him? That he convinced me to come back to life? What, what, what?" She said, burying her face in her hands, "That he was killed because of me," She said, sniffling and realized she was sobbing all over. She'd kep this death so far away for so long, just getting through the games. Now that it was won, now that there was peace and there was time to think she realized that it felt a little emptier without him around.

"You two…" Draco trailed off and Hermione almost laughed. It got her to stop crying.

"In full transparency, yeah, we did." She said, because of course that's the one thing he'd focus on. She didn't go into details that it was because the berries encouraged them to. She knew she wanted it, that he wanted it, or it wouldn't have happened.

Draco was running his knuckles across each other, thinking, "We made a pact." He said suddenly, "To keep you safe. A mutual understanding."

"Because you both…loved me?" Hermione said, tilting her head. He nodded, "How did he-,"

"He recognized the same look he gave to you in me. Confronted me about it one day after training. I didn't think it was a bad thing to have someone else looking out. Unbreakable vow. Had either of us done anything other than your best interest…" Draco slipped finger across his neck, "It wasn't your fault, Hermione. He had to save you."

"Because he wanted to! Because I was stupid and went out looking for Ron and Elizabeth and that didn't matter because both of them are dead too! Because I was so caught up in myself that I-," Hermione felt the tears bubbling up inside of her, "Stupid unbreakable vow or not…"

"I was almost glad when he was dead, you know? I just…I looked at him and it was so hard for me to believe that between the two of us, in a real world chance, you'd pick me." He said, "I was waiting around, right after his interview and Rita had asked about other girls in his life and all, and I saw the way he looked around. He saw your parents, you know, and there was just this look. But he didn't want to make you choose. And he got out of his interview, and I remember exactly what he said to himself, 'that girl will be the death of me'. Merlin, I knew he meant it, that he would die for you."

"Why would you tell me that?" Hermione said, hands trembling, "It just makes me feel worse!"

"You shouldn't. Urg, I'm explaining this all wrong. Look, he came to me and asked about the agreement and I'd heard that and I knew I could trust you with him. I can't trust anyone, you know? I couldn't, not then! And try as I might, I found it hard to imagine I'd die for you. Slytherin's don't die for people, we kill for people!"

"But you did, with Pansy."

"Because he'd already done it once. And I looked at Seamus death and I thought if I couldn't do that for you too maybe I didn't deserve you. He gave me the power. Hermione, I'm a naturally selfish person who only cares about himself. But I'm trying. I'm trying to fucking hard to change, and I want to change for you. I want to be more like him."

"More like Seamus?" Hermione echoed, dumbfounded.

"Good, like him. I would have liked to think I wouldn't have played dirty to get you if we both survived- him- and me but I know myself better. But, I also couldn't have been upset if you choose him because he was, he would have been, so good to you."

Hermione sat, trying to form words for a moment, before giving up entirely. Draco stood, "That's a lot to erm, think about I guess. I'll leave you to, yeah." He said, starting to leave, "That help at all? Helping you write it?"

"No. You and Hannah are equally unhelpful." Hermione replied dryly, "Draco, I don't need to think about it. I love you and I liked Seamus for different things, okay? You don't need to be like him, you just need to be the best you that you can be. Get the difference?"

"I'm trying to," Draco said honestly, "Regardless, I'm expected to take my mother to a gala tonight. I'm saving you from the horror of it." He said, chuckling, "Whatever you want to say about him…I'm behind you."

Draco left, and Hermione felt better about it all. But, she still had little clue about what to write. And, she realized that Draco had skirted around talking about Colin or his outburst at all.

TGG

The majority of the funerals went the same, because Hermione did something undeniably stupid. She shut her feelings off. She couldn't be careless like Hannah was, or strong like Draco was and the only thing she could manage to do was just not give a damn. She could hurt later, she figured, years later. But not today.

And so, the funerals went by quietly, in Hermione's mind, at first. One, blending into another. Black clothes, crying families, bouquets of flowers and getting up on that podium and saying words, but not meaning anything.

She knew, as she delivered Lavender's that people whispered about her. How dare she speak at Lavender's death when she was the person who killed her? Hannah told a few people to mind their own business, in not nice as words, but to Hermione it all just felt numb. She had killed Lavender. And if she turned on caring again, she'd probably hurt a lot. She'd feel guilty, even though Lavender was dying anyway. Even though Harry told her Lavender didn't blame her, but thanked her. But those two people were dead and here Hermione was, alive.

Draco noticed her change, obviously, but she just brushed him away. She knew that if she were able to smile enough and seem okay, he'd let it go since he had other things to worry about; his own euologies and the Order and their lack of anything past realizing the hollows. At any other time, she might be miffed at him. She was greatful now, however.

He seemed to leave her mostly alone, never pushing her too far; not like Hannah had been doing, she thought back upon. Hannah, in the days leading up to the funerals, had been annoying. She tried to get Hermione out to do this or that, growing increasingly frustrated and vocal each time Hermione found an excuse to stay in. It wasn't hard to find them…not with the funerals approaching, not with the weight of it all. Despite this, Hannah's frustration only mounted.

But Hermione would have never been able to tell that Hannah's fuse had been short with her lately, or any one at all. As she spoke her eulogies, she seemed like a seraphim, gilded and breathless, her golden hair shining like a halo. He words were contrite, her expression properly pouted, her eyes glistening and she felt each eulogy.

Hermione never thought she'd be envious of someone's abilities to speak of the dead, but when Hannah spoke the whole room felt like they knew Wayne Hopkins, even if some had only heard of his name when he was dead. When she spoke, you could imagine being best friends with Ernie and rolling in the summer grass, down that hill next to his house. You could feel Susan's hands in your own as you practiced your first spell the first day of Hogwarts. Even Cal's or Duke's, who Hannah hadn't known at all, made it sound like they'd been friends for a long time. When people left their funerals, they would be left with a feeling of happiness. They would feel these people at peace, even if that weren't true. Everyone wanted to believe that, after all.

Hermione knew her eulogies did not capture everyone like that. She so desperately wished they did, because everyone deserved to be remembered like that.

Even Draco's eulogies had a…je ne sais quoi. Being a Malfoy had certain trains enunciated in his youth, public speaking being one of them, apparently. He spoke each word very delicately, very meaningfully. Not a single person sitting there could have been convinced he was speaking mostly on the spot, only a few scribbled notes in margins to lead him, but Hermione knew he was. She envied that too- how he could just gather all his thoughts together, cast a net out and bring in a perfectly worded and appropriate speech. He didn't make people feel like they knew the dead, necessarily, but perhaps if Malfoy could find a good thing to say about someone, it was best to just leave it at that.

She knew it was difficult for him, having to stumble over Blaise's or Pansy's funeral. Pansy's especially. What the hell do you say about a girl who was absolutely murderous? Or at Daphne's…when you were the one who killed her; not a mercy kill, accidental sure, but killed her outright?

He made the answers seem so easy. For Pansy; "She was a girl who wanted to love, wanted to matter. I recall as a child she always wanted the shiniest thing, something to outshine us all. I always trumped her, but now…I wish just once, I hadn't. I don't think she could be so easily fixed with one memory of her being the queen between the kids, no, but I do think that overall, maybe it could have made a difference. She was down a path I think few of us would even consider strong enough to bear, so is it really so shocking? I think what we have to imagine is that Pansy, the one that I knew and cared about at one point, died a long time before this. We have to remember her as a child, as a third-year who was more ferocious than any male in our house. She was fearless then, full of energy, full of life. And we should morn for her loss, because she really was something."

That was the only one he'd written out before had, practiced. It was paramount that one be done right. Hermione thought it was the best one could do, all circumstances considering.

Faye, Hermione's first eulogy, was easy. Lavender's wasn't. Hearing about Blaise's, how Draco spoke of him with such a rough voice was hard. She could almost remember what it felt like to kill him, but it was a whisper in the back of her mind. She wished she could remember, because maybe then she could block it out. But here it remained hanging between the two sides, and she felt tethered to it. And worse, knowing Blaise's was done was that two of her own were coming up, Luna's and…Seamus'.

And she felt like she had two million note cards filled with things to say but didn't think she could say any of them.

Luna's funeral was filled with funny plants and weird devices, courtesy of her father. Each grieving family was allowed to set the funeral plans. Hermione felt weird walking among the things she'd so harshly mocked.

"We live in a world of magic, dragons…this," Draco said when she commented on it, "Is it so hard to believe that maybe those strange pixies or whatever exist too?" Draco asked.

Hermione swallowed, "It was."

Per her father's request, no one wore black. Hermione felt a little ill in her sunflower yellow dress, only because it did remind her too much of Luna. And standing in front of everyone in brightly colored garments, it seemed like they were here for a wedding or baby shower…not a funeral.

"I remember meeting Luna, right after she was sorted," Hermione began, and smiled because it was a fond memory, "The Ravenclaws were…surprised to say the least. Luna was everything that I think the house forgot about itself. We weren't friends right away, but gosh, Luna didn't have a unkind thing to say about anyone. How could you dislike someone like that? If we're discussing people here who are strong, full of magic, full of what it means to be a witch or wizard…we should look to Luna, forever. I think it's easy as a magical being to take the easy ways to things…magic folds our laundry, can write letters to people, and even take us to places across the globe in the blink of an eye. Luna was never satisfied with that-she was the future, she was pushing forward to question magic and things that might exist, beyond our scope of what we can even dream of. I used to think us very different people- I rooted in science, her in her beliefs. But how different are we, truly? I believe in faith that some things in science are true but nearly unexplainable, or hard to grasp to our minds. The endless void in space, perhaps. Luna's zest for life, where ever it took her, was endless. There is many days I wish I could be a little more like Luna."

When she was finished, she stumbled off the podium and was immediately engulfs in a hug by Luna's father.

"You did her proud," He said.

Somehow, Hermione felt like she was cheating him.

The day, the moment somehow came. The one she wanted to come and altogether stay away- Seamus' funeral.

It was near the sea, in a small church made from flagstones and growing moss everywhere. The church was packed, so many familiar faces.

"Hey, you got this." Draco murmured as she stood after her name was announced. Hannah was her a thumbs up, a sad smile too.

Hermione took the stage.

"Hi everyone," She said, and wasn't sure why she did, but gulped down her embarrassment, because this wasn't a friendly chat she was giving. Looking at the white and sweaty post cards in her hand, filled with possible starting and ending places, she bit her lip and tried to figure out which to begin with. In all her time, she hadn't figured out how to say anything still. She felt tears even though she had hardly begun and tried not to make it obvious she was wiping them away, because this was just silly.

"I…I knew Seamus," She said, which she also wanted to kick herself for, because, duh. She drew her teeth over her bottom lip, trying to figure how to go from that. What an awful opening. The girl who always had something to say was suddenly drawing a blank slate in her mind, "But I…he…" her fingers quivered and one of the cards fell from her hands. As she bent down to pick them up, her whole head began to spin, "I need a second," She said out loud, eyes wide before leaving the surprised and worried crowd. She threw the doors open to outside, stumbling and throwing off her heels, letting her feet squish into the mud.

The wind was violent today, and as she pressed a splayed palm against the side of the church, frantically trying not to vomit, a tree branch snapped off behind her. But Hermione didn't hear a tree branch; instead, she was back in the games and she watched Seamus' head go unnaturally sideways and that was all it took to reduce Hermione to a quivering mess on the side of the church, grasping her roots of her hair and breathing hard.

She felt like no oxygen was getting in at all. She'd died twice and lived; but she didn't really recall what it felt like to die in either. But this, she figured, this is maybe how it felt- she was sure this was going to be her third time, as ridiculous as that may be since she was perfectly fine and she knew how to breathe, but for some reason her mind just wasn't catching up.

"Great Gryffindor, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up, her vision blacking in and out, but cleared for a second to show Dean, a yard away from her. She breathed in and realized she was crying, blubbering everywhere, and her whole face felt like it was coated in tears and mucus.

"I…I didn't mean to just leave," Hermione fumbled, desperately trying to let someone know, "But I needed a second to just…I don't know, I don't know. It was too tight in there. And out here, the wind, a branch s-sna-snapped and it was his neck and I'm not here and-," Nothing was making sense out of her mouth but Dean's whole face morphed into a look somewhere between pity and pain.

"You did care for him, didn't you?" He said slowly.

"What?" Hermione said, grabbing her heart, because it felt far too slow, "Of course I did!" How could he not see this?

"You just…you got with Draco so fast and Seamus loved you. And you said you weren't anything really in the games, what was I meant to think?" Dean said slowly, staring down at her. Anger replaced her cloying fear, and she managed to hold her tears long enough to get out a deeply affronted question.

"You think I…I used his affections for me to further my place in the games?" She asked, and for the first time noticed his half-clenched fist and his stance, taut like he was about to make a motion, "Is that how you think of me?" Deep hurt like arrows penetrated her heart, to imagine one of her fellow Lions saw her as such a despicable person.

"I…he was my best mate, and he was always so gaga, Hermione, I wanted to look out for him. Even if he's dead." He added on after a moment, "But I see maybe I was wrong."

"I didn't want to tell anyone because he was special to me, okay? I was selfish there, yes, " She muttered angrily, staring up at Dean with burning eyes, "but Dean if I could go back I would take his place. I would die and let him live, you understand?" She asked firmly, and Dean looked into her eyes, nodding solemnly.

"I see that now. Merlin, are you okay, Hermione?" He finally asked.

"I don't know." Hermione admitted, "Before I felt like the world was swallowing me and I was just going to die. It's silly, but I couldn't shake it. I still don't feel…but never mind, my dress is full of mud and I'm sure everyone in there thinks the worst of me." She whispered, "I just left."

"Your makeup is a little unsalvageable too, if we're being honest, but here," Dean said, offering Hermione a handkerchief. Hermione took it, giving him a hard glare, but he grinned a little.

"Yes, I suppose," She sighed, for when she wiped down her cheeks black smudges came with them.

"We should go back in," Dean said, coming to sit next to her, falling on his back as though he suddenly lost his balance.

"Yes. I think so," Hermione agree, but neither moved. Instead, she lead the wind whip her hair and imagined Seamus out there on those knolls, that he'd just appear and beckon for them to join him, and they'd go down to the beach and let the sea salt spray their faces and splash each other with the frigid water. It was a nice thought.

When she glanced at Dean's face, he looked faraway too and she wondered if maybe he was thinking something similar.

"We really should get back now," Dean said after a second, "Maybe you don't say anything. It's fine. I'll speak. Or maybe we'll just let Seamus' memory speak for him," He offered.

Though, when they reached the doors of the church, Hermione saw that the podium had someone already up there- Draco. Dean stiffened at the blonde, but slowly began to relax as they heard him speak. Draco wasn't even looking at the back entrance to the church, but he was using his hands and speaking the most passionately that Hermione had heard yet.

"-and the games, so many of us will die. You want to win, of course, but it takes a strength to be a hero in other places. I'm not a hero. Hannah isn't a hero, Hermione isn't a hero. When you win, you just live, but you're no one special. Seamus sacrificed his life for someone else, without a second thought. That does make him a hero, it makes him someone worth remembering. So few would do that for someone else. You could say he cared deeply, or he was just the kind of guy that would do that if you were so lucky to gather his care. You only really get one person for you like that, if you're ever even to get one. And, it's a lot better to go knowing you accepted this than other ways, isn't it?" There was a quiet pause, before Draco looked up at the wood paneling of the church's roof, "I hope it's good up there, Finnegan, I hope you're painless up there and you're blowing up things to your hearts content," He said, which had a couple chuckles from the crowd, "Merlin knows…you deserve it." He said. It was only on his way back to his seat that he caught sight of Hermione, standing at the edge.

"Thank you," She mouthed and he nodded.

"Should we go in?" Dean asked as Seamus' mother stood to say a few final words.

"I think I should stay here," Hermione said, sitting on a stool just outside the door, "You're right, you know. He gave everything for me…I'll never feel worthy of that. How could I?"

"Just…don't make me regret it," Dean said, "Fix whatever that was out there, and because I won't have you just waste away in self-pity after what he did for you, you got it?" He asked, his voice taking a hardened edge.

Hermione nodded, but she didn't truly understand.

That night, in he cottage as she cleaned away the mud from between her fingers and toes, wiping away the makeup, she felt small again. She felt like she was out of breathe completely.

To her shock, Draco was waiting for her at the foot of her bed, and she paused, wringing out her hair, trying to figure out something to say. They usually went back to the Manor together, but parted ways near the door because they weren't…Draco spent a lot of time here, but they slept in their own rooms, and at night they talked but never this late. And he was in his pajamas- and she half expected them to be silky and green and ostentatious looking- but they were just a silky pair of pants and a simple t-shirt and his hair was all mussed.

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay after today," He said, reading her surprise.

"Why? Because it was Seamus?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You did stumble out and never come back," Draco said, tilting his head, wincing for her.

She turned around, "Well, if you're going to be an ass, you know-," She murmured under her breath. She was self-conscious and very vulnerable about the whole thing, and she didn't need to be reminded of it.

"I'm asking because you looked like you died and came back all in ten minutes," Draco said sharply, "If it was at…Pansy's funeral," He said, trying to pick a name, "I'd be asking the same thing." He said, grasping her hand, "What happened outside?"

"I…I snapped," Hermione said quietly, looking down, "I heard a branch snap, and it sounded like Seamus dying and suddenly I just couldn't remember how to breathe. It felt like I was being squeezed by darkness and it wasn't until Dean came out that I even realized I was crying or that I was sitting in mud or anything. It really surprised me."

"Surprised you?" Draco raised an eyebrow, "Be a little more detached, will you?" He said. She almost lashed out, but realized how little surprised covered, in response of feelings.

"it was scary," She amended, "It was…I have died twice, you know? And I don't really recall either. But I was sure this was it. That maybe I have a warranty."

"No," Draco shook his head, "You didn't die to come back to die so soon," He said, "I think you just…it's a little much."

"What can I do?" Hermione asked emotionlessly, crawling onto her side of the bed, grabbing a pillow to hug, "Nothing," She answered for herself.

"Not yet. But soon, the funerals will end and then we can fix it."

Hermione didn't speak. She played with her fraying end of her nightgown; "It's only going to get harder from here, the funerals. People we knew better, good or bad. This was just the start of it." She whispered, "Ron's…And I loved Ron too. He's one of my best friends. If I can't get through his then how-," She felt the darkness invade her again.

"Hermione, hey, look at me," He said, placing a cool hand on her cheek, "You gotta do it. It's how you can say goodbye," He pointed out, "Otherwise it will haunt us forever. We have to let them go."

"Draco? Can you stay here tonight with me?" Hermione asked, as he retracted his hand. Draco startled, clearly not expecting such an invitation, but nodded.

"Yeah," He said, lying on the other side, but with a healthy amount of space between them. Hermione snorted, feeling a little lighter knowing he'd be here.

"Don't be such a stranger," She said, grabbing his arm and pulling him around her, "Like this."

"If that's…okay?"

"If it weren't, would I have put you there?"

Draco was quiet, "I just don't want to do the wrong thing."

"Nothing bout you is wrong, it hasn't been for a long time," Hermione said, already half-asleep, the day having exhausted her, "Nothing at all…"

TGG

Draco was only half-right. The next two funerals following directly after were not at all difficult for Hermione. First came Corner's, which was indeed difficult, but just for Hannah. Draco seemed a little more at ease than she would have thought, but then again, some bitter people might say he'd know a thing or two about abandoning one's house loyalties. It was rubbish, of course, Draco was still utterly Slytherin. Just…not a villain, which she understood the confusion, especially in the last decade or so, but he wasn't so different from the little boy who she'd met first year…he'd just grown up.

Hermione found she couldn't even listen to Draco's eulogy about him, because she was too preoccupied with Hannah's eyes darting everywhere at once. She eventually gave Hermione a frantic 'please tell me I'm not crazy look'. Hermione's eyes drew away from her friend's face, and she grimaced.

She leaned in, whispering, "You know when you think everyone's looking at you, talking about you, and it's all just made-up in your mind? This is possibly the one time that does not apply." Hermione said apologetically.

"I'm sure they're wondering how I can just sit here, pretending to be…nice about it when Corner was the one who did this?" Hannah hissed back, shifting so her arm wasn't in sight anymore, or her lack thereof, "They know I nearly lost it at Blaise's…"

"You'll get through this one too. This monster is dead. He can't hurt you ever again," Hermione said, because that's what she needed to hear. In reality, Hermione wanted to give her a speech about how he hadn't really been himself and this was all a product of the games and the only real monster was Voldemort, but alas, this was neither the time nor place.

The one after that was Cal's, which was Hermione's speech to give, and it was only a little hard because of the guilt she felt. She hadn't know Cal existed prior to the games, and once in them, she wasn't sure they'd ever interacted. She felt bad that she knew there was someone out there that could have given a great eulogy, but there she was, giving out niceties that hardly meant much and just hoping to get through it soon.

After, it was a little more difficult…Elizabeth's. Hermione could only recall the way her life spirited away from her tiny frail body and how the entirety of the forest seemed to stand still, just for a second, before Draco and Ron arrived.

Lupin attended, and there were other familiar faces that were nodding to Lupin as they sat, so Hermione gathered they were other werewolves. Although Elizabeth had hardly ever been one, the line that ran through all these people ran through her too, and that couldn't be ignored.

"I think a lot of us wish we could go out her way, without having to worry," Hermione over heard one of the girls she picked out in the group say to another, "Not having to hurt anyone."

Hermione knew the young girl had felt an attachment to Hermione, and to Hannah. But no more so than Draco. She'd been…intrigued by him, Hermione recalled, and she thought he might have been to. And he'd known, a little, about what was going on with her. Hermione didn't have to have him say it out loud ever, but she knew it was the one time he truly felt helpless.

The end of Draco's eulogy to her struck a chord in Hermione, and it was just something they'd never talked about, "She was fearless," Draco said, "Truly. Can any of us compare to what she did, what she endured, even to her dying breath? She was caring, unstoppable, determined…and I think if I ever have a daughter, I'd only be so lucky to have one like her."

The idea that they would grow up, grow past this, and do normal things…like have children. What a novel idea, Hermione mused. It all seemed so immediate, this life. The thought of anything years beyond it was…impossible to imagine. She hadn't realized that Draco had thoughts about children. Hermione hardly did as it were.

Maybe it was easy to, when she saw the teddy bears and sparkling pens people brought to put on her gravestone. It was a little rattling to see that she was only thirteen, far too young, more child than adult.

"Hermione," A timid voice said behind Hermione as she stared at the smiling picture of Elizabeth. Hermione turned, seeing Artemis and her older sisters. Maybe they were now thinking about how lucky it was that it wasn't Artemis in the games, since thirteen was such a young age already.

"Hey," Hermione said, knitting her eyebrows together, "Did you know her?"

"Not well," Artemis said, "But she wasn't that much older than me. Felt right." She sounded sage beyond her years. A part of her reminded Hermione of herself.

"We haven't had a chance to catch you, since the games. It's been…busy," Blair said, "We wanted to thank you."

Hermione bit her tongue. She wanted to say that it was a little late for 'thank yous', after all she'd been through, or that once she was in the games, it wasn't about Artemis it was just about surviving and all, but she instead smiled gracefully.

"I hope I've spared you, at least for a year, but hopefully many more," Hermione said directly to Artemis, because she was feeling a little bitter toward the sisters as it were.

"I want to go in! I want to be a survivor, like you." Artemis said, eyes gleaming.

"No," Hermione shook her head, a little angry, "You don't-," She broke off, gathering her sudden burst of anger, "It's not like that. I wouldn't want you to go through it." Hermione said, kneeling at the girl's eye level, "These games will destroy you, please, stay light, please." Hermione said. Artemis didn't quite seem to understand, but nodded all the same. Hermione swallowed thickly, standing.

"We've…oh, my." Scarlett whimpered, "We've never heard her say something like that," They seemed just as horrified as Hermione.

"You'd have to kill people, dear, you don't want to do that," Blair said.

"Hermione killed people."

Hermione bit her lip hard, "I did." She admitted, wondering if this was how the youngsters were now, brainwashed by the ideas of glory and such, shown by their former role models it was okay to kill their friends in the games, "And I will have to live with it. It's a curse, not an honor." Hermione said.

"But-,"

"Artemis, I…" For once, Hermione was at a complete loss on how to convince this girl, without scarring her for life. Without giving all the gory details. But she didn't know how else. But she'd hate herself if she did, so she just shook her head, "I don't know how to get through to her." She admitted to the sisters. They shared glances, scowling.

"We'll talk to her. I think it's high time we get you home," Blair said, sighing longingly.

"What? No I-,"

"Yes," Scarlett agreed sharply, "Home."

Hermione watched them leave, and she wondered how many other children her age were looking at these games as something…something people wanted to be in? She couldn't be the only one. The idea of Voldemort making kids think this is okay made her feel sick to her stomach.

She went home that night and vomited until there was nothing left.

After Elizabeth's was Tracey's, who Hermione was more or less neutral about. She'd tried to kill them, yeah, but she'd kinda snapped at that point and Hermione didn't find her as annoying as other Slytherin girls previous to the games.

Draco was about to break off to prepare to give his speech when he made a sudden bee-line toward the chairs.

"You got a lotta nerve showing up here, Weasley." Draco growled to Fred, who'd sat down slightly in the back.

"Fred, what are you doing here?" Hermione murmured. Although she wasn't sure how common knowledge it was that Fred was basically responsible for her death, she didn't want him to get lynched or shoved or something. People in grief had done more over less, which is why attacking a victor was punishable by death, according to Voldemort. Only someone truly suicidal would come after one of them to get revenge on a love one that was no longer around because of them.

So, Fred was safe too, technically as he was a victor, but Hermione still felt uneasy about him being here.

"Can't I pay my respects?" He asked. Draco muttered something inaudible, shooting angry glares and leaving them alone.

"He's not going to forgive me for that, eh?"

"You lied to us. It was a pretty low move, even in the games." Hermione winced, trying not to take one side or the other.

"I feel bad about her death, because no one really…well, you know," Fred said, looking down. Hermione nodded, although he didn't see, and sat next to him gingerly.

"To die like that? Fred, I just," Hermione gave a low groan, "It was…torture, I'm sure, for her. I know. I watched. At least you realize that maybe-,"

"I would do it again to save you. I would have done it for Ron had I the chance. I don't regret it." Fred interrupted her sharply.

Hermione's heart dropped a little, and she swallowed thickly. "I never asked to be saved by you," She whispered, a little angry a little frustrated, "I never asked to be saved by anyone, and yet everyone felt as though I needed to survive. And people have done awful things in my name, things I would never condone. And I just hate it. I hate it, I hate it." She hissed, clenching her fists.

"You didn't need to ask. It's what people do when they care," Fred said, narrowing his eyes.

"Yeah well," Hermione bit out, "Why do you, anyway? Ron and I were hardly friends at the end? I never asked for you to care for me, you know? I could have managed, or I wouldn't have, but at least it would have been me. I'm sick of feeling like some fumbling protagonist, always sending out everyone to my rescue, in a story that I can't even control!" She hissed low under her breath.

"Fuck that, you can't decide who and who can't care about you," Fred shook his head, "You're stuck with that. It's not up to you, and guess what, I saved you because I do care. Get the fuck over it." Fred snapped back to her.

"You know where you can go shove your caring? Up your-,"

"Really?" Hannah's voice stopped Hermione, "You're at a funeral, you know?" She said, sitting next to the pair. Hermione coughed, realizing she was nearly making a scene.

She shot angry looks at Fred, and gathered her things hastily, "I think I'm going to find another place to sit."

"You can ignore the world, but the world isn't going to ignore you!" Fred called after her, and in any other situation it may seem as a comfort people were invested in her well being, but now it just seemed like a threat.

Afterwards, Draco found her staring murderously at Tracey's grave. She wasn't angry at Tracey, but she was angry at Fred. Angry at herself. At Seamus, a bit. At Draco, even. Angry at Hannah for reasons unknown, and angry just at the games itself.

"Do I want to know what had you looking like Preferred Weasley was going to be Dead Weasley back there?"

"He's infuriating. He 'cares', apparently, and we have very different definitions of how those feelings should be expressed." Hermione hissed.

"You're angry," Draco observed.

"Yes." She felt the words slice from her tongue, "Very much so."

"Is it so awful? We are alive because of it." Draco said, tilting his head.

"You don't get it either." Hermione muttered, brushing past him, "Just, leave me alone, please."

"You're only going to get so many more of those free passes to ask that, Hermione," Draco warned as she clutched her arms around her chest, "Think carefully. Soon, I'm not going to listen when you ask that." He sounded weary, but stepped back, leaving her as she wished.

She couldn't understand why the world wouldn't let her exist in peace now, in her solitary cottage with books and tea and no one else and few reminders of the horrors she faced.

The next funeral was Mandy's, which went as smoothly as it could with the ever-growing rage growing inside Hermione's stomach. She was angry with a whole lot of things she had zero control over, and that pissed her off. She knew after Mandy's was Ron's and she had no idea how she was going to get through his eulogy without burning down the chapel.

Out of all of her eulogies, Ron's felt like of the most natural to her. She felt like she had so many stories she could have used from their youth, so many ways to describe the way Ron was, had been. In comparison to Seamus', she could have written a novel about Ron, and was indeed tempted to at times- her and Harry and Ron and their silly adventures they'd gotten into before all this happened.

She wore her best black dress, something she'd saved for him, something she hadn't even worn to Seamus' funeral, because this was Ron and deep down, he deserved it.

Going up to the podium, all she felt was unbridled anger undulating when she saw Fred, and it was reflected at herself as she recalled dragging him across the field and the way he coughed and coughed and couldn't find his breath and then it was already too late.

And she felt like when she spoke, her words would be shaking with anger, but then she looked out on the crowd- all the people who had crammed themselves into the area, and it was more than she thought- and the anger just…dissipated. And while she didn't have the stone on her, she was almost positive Ron and Harry were flanking her, watching. She knew they were there.

She imagined that Ron was actually probably enjoying this, that he was probably making comments about who was here to morn him. It was almost like he was speaking directly into her ear, and for a second she was sure she couldn't just be making it up.

"Oh, there's Lonnie Spinner, he was a year above us, wasn't he, Harry- a Ravenclaw? Yeah, he seems real broken up. But look at that- Demezel Robins is sobbing already and the service hasn't even stared! Think she might have fancied me? Yeah, I know, she's a little crazy. And my uncle's here- that one that's an accountant. Merlin, I don't know the last time I saw him. Nice of him to skimp out on gifts on holidays but arrives for a funeral."

Hermione could hear it so clearly that she had to look down for a second to hold in her scoffs, and that turned into thick, hot tears because it was just so Ron- even if her mind was just making it up, everything about it was just…him. It was almost uncanny. She didn't know which I was; truth or imagination, but it broke down all her anger until she was just left with an ache.

The room buzzed into focus around her, and she looked up to see a mixture of faces filled with concern and confusion.

"I must look batty, laughing up here and crying to myself," Hermione said out loud, shaking her head, "And I mean, I find myself wondering why I'm up here, you know? Why his sister or one of his living brothers isn't up here, because surely they know him pretty well? Once, I did." Hermione paused, tapping her fingers on the podium, "I prepared to come up here with a bunch of antecedents about our time together, to show you who he was, but let's be honest, if you're here you probably knew him. If you're here and you didn't, no words I could give you would ever really explain him. So instead, let me say this. We started growing apart after Harry died. He had felt helpless, I had felt guilty. We let it drive a wedge in us and after awhile we just…weren't. And neither of us really realized it, but by the time we did there was already an ocean between us of unsaid things, of emotions we both held but neither wanted to discuss with the other. That's what I regret the most of everything that's happened, that I let these games and Harry's death steal away one of my best friends from me long before he died here. I'm angry that I didn't try to hold on harder, when we both knew the way things were going. We weren't stupid, and things weren't turning up for us. I think we both knew one, if not both, would end up in these games and we were still so stubborn, so afraid of…of Merlin know's what! Don't be like me, if you have someone out there you haven't talked to in ages, just do it. We never know how much time we have left with them, especially not in these ages. Near the end, it was all erased, but there are so many things I never got the chance to tell him. That I was just as gutted by loosing Harry. That I thought he was brave the way he carried on, after loosing his biological brothers and his adopted one, because Harry was his family. Harry was my family. That I never told him how cute he and Luna were, how much I was glad he found someone…that I missed him terribly. I felt like I didn't have the words. I did, but I couldn't say them. Don't be me. Be better than me. Do it for both of us, because I'm sure there are things Ron never got a chance to me to say either, even if it was I'm still a know-it-all." She gave a laugh, "But I would have loved to hear even that."

And then, Hermione left the stage, because frankly, there was nothing more or less to say. It felt good, to say those things, even if a few were a little too late.

"I think you did him proud up there," Mrs. Weasley said to her quietly, but Hermione couldn't answer. If she really had done him proud, she would have saved him, he'd still be here.

She didn't have the strength to argue, and his funeral in itself left her feeling colder than she'd felt yet. But, she thought that was nearly the end of it-the end of revelations, of long eulogies, of sad families. Three funerals left, and then, it would just simply be over…which seemed impossibly far from her.

After, came Colin's funeral, which Hermione went into thinking would be wholly uneventful or emotional, at least compared to others she'd been through. She liked Colin a lot, and had grown closer to him than she'd ever been at Hogwarts, true, but in comparison to Ron's funeral and the loss of Ron, Colin seemed very small.

But from the very start, Draco seemed inexplicably off when they woke up. It wasn't that he was grumpy or snapping or even unresponsive. It was impossible for Hermione to describe what about him exactly she found different than usual, but from the moment she met him at the entrance of the cottage, he seemed to be responding oddly to this one.

Hannah seemed to note it too, when she met them at the floo disembarkation area, and Hermione watched as her eyes narrowed and she made a grunt of half-surprise under her breathe.

"Ready for this, Malfoy?" She questioned, and Hermione's head whipped around, half-shocked she was making her observation known, because they were all smart enough to know a bait, and half-curious to see his response.

To her surprise, at first, he looked genuinely confused at her question.

"Wouldn't you be asking her that? I'm not the one giving it, nor was I in his house."

"Well, but you knew him best out of us, arguably. Spent the most time with him."

"Was Tracey's funeral hard for you? You spent a lot of time with her, too. Knew her better than any of us," Draco fired back mockingly, and yes, Hermione was now convinced that something was up.

"I didn't talk to her, ever. Just was basically a parasite. From what I understand, you and Colin stayed in the same place. It's understandable to-,"

"He was a gryffindor I was put with for a time being. It's regrettable he died, I suppose, but overall there are other things on my mind." He replied crisply. Hermione frowned, nodding Hannah ahead, and Draco gave a look as she pulled him aside. She knew that he had expressed more emotions about him than this, so something wasn't adding up.

"Hey, you okay today?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem…" She trailed off.

"What? I just seem what?"

"I can't even describe it." Hermione admitted.

"I think you're imagining problems that aren't here," Draco said evenly after a moment, "Shouldn't we go?" He questioned.

She gave in, "I guess."

As they walked, Hermione tilted her head, "I remember when I first met him, him and his camera...so untainted. Annoying, but young and youthful and I'd already battled a troll and done puzzles to stop Quirrel and Voldemort and here was this kid that didn't know any of that, because he'd been like me, a muggle-born and I felt like telling him this place was dangerous and if he wasn't careful…" She pursed her lips, "And then he was petrified and as much as I almost wanted to say 'I knew it', afterwards, he wasn't quite as happy as he'd once been. And that wasn't anything compared to this, even. It was telling us what was to come, and we didn't listen. And I have to wonder if we were told everything that would happen to us at the age of ten if we would have never chosen to be wizards at all."

Draco's head snapped around, "Are you saying that in his eulogy...are you thinking about leaving the wizarding world?" His second question was a little more high-pitched.

"No, and no. It's not just something you say. It's just musings. And…" Hermione rolled her fingers over her wand in her pocket, although she still couldn't quite hold it like she once did, "I did all this to win the right to use magic. I'm not going to throw it away. If I had been given a choice, though," She frowned.

"That's why you'd be lucky, you know? I couldn't even choose not to be a wizard. I'd be useless out there, in your world." He admitted, grinning.

"You'd figure it out." Hermione shrugged.

The eulogy itself went smoothly enough. She talked about how he'd been obsessed with Harry but by the end had been a hero himself in his own right. She talked about the moment she'd been curled up next to him and his body and his smell had reminded her of the Gryffindor common room and there hadn't been a more comforting thought in the world. She almost talked about their wizarding backgrounds, the lack thereof, but in the last second just couldn't. Weren't his parents already wishing perhaps he'd never gotten his Hogwarts letter, as Hermione's own likey were?

The trouble came aftewards, when they were making their way to pay their respects the the parents. Draco was taut, coiled like a spring, and uneasy. They snaked through the groups of people- Gryffindors wiping away tears, professors staring sadly at his casket that would hold absolutely nothing, Ravenclaws in a corner with drinks in their hands. Hermione wasn't paying attention to any of them specifically, not until Draco stopped so abruptly she nearly ran into him, and she followed his gaze to the group of Ravenclaws-three of them, a year or two younger than Hermione.

"What is i-," She begun to ask. Draco's face looked so angry, though, that she instead took a step forward so that she was within earshot. Hannah shot her a crazy look, but she nodded toward Draco. Hannah immediately stepped forward too.

"-and he was obviously gay, you know." One of the boys was saying, "Like, good thing I never had to be in the same room as him. What if he was having...thoughts the whole night?"

"Maybe that's why he was so obsessed with Harry," One snorted, tilting their drink in his glass, "And it's also clear he just...transferred his affections."

"Well, I mean, haven't we all wondered if Malfoy's gay at one point?"

"Hey, look, I'm saying anything, but in the games maybe you take what you can get, ya know?"

"Oh please, he probably loved it. Probably did wicked things too. Or maybe Colin did? Maybe Draco prefers bottom."

"What about Hermione?"

"Maybe she watched. Maybe she was in on it? I betcha she's just a beard."

"I just don't understand why Colin would filth himself up with someone like Malfoy though, I mean-,"

The guy, who was about to make some wild gesticulating point, never saw the punch coming. The sound was enough to stop the entirety of the conversations in the room. Hermione was frozen for a second, but leapt into action to stop Draco from pummeling the second guy, shoving him aside with all her body weight.

"Dammit, Malfoy, you can't go around punching people at funerals!" Hannah hissed, helping the first guy up off the ground, "Even if he deserved it…" She muttered only so he could hear, eyes narrowing.

"Draco!" Hermione hissed, and then noticing people were staring and Draco still looked murderous, she led him to a back room and locked the door behind them.

"What the hell was that?" She asked, throwing her hands back, "If you were doing it for me, I don't need to be protected!"

"It wasn't for you," Draco snarled, pacing, shaking his hand. It was tinged with blood, but Hermione was fairly sure it was from the man's nose, not Draco's hands. But when he opened his palms to flex them, she saw deep gouges in his hands, where his fingernails would be. She wondered how early into that overheard conversation he'd been upset.

"Draco, look don't...don't listen to them, what they're saying. Fuck their opinions, you know? We both know you're not gay and it's stupid to get so upset when you survived the games and they never did so-,"

"You think I'm upset because they think I'm gay?" Draco stopped her, stopping his pacing and staring slack-jawed at her. Hermione's brain fizzled white, and she sputtered for a second.

"I...you...it's not?" She said, "I just…" She shook her head, not comprehending his anger, his sudden outburst.

"Hermione," Draco said, his anger seemingly draining fast and just leaving hurt, "Merlin," He pressed the back of his hands to his sockets, sniffling, "It's the way they were talking about Colin."

"Yeah, it was shitty of them to talk so ill of the dead," Hermione agreed. She wasn't upset he punched them, in fact, she wished she'd gotten one in too.

"Colin was my best friend, Hermione." Draco said after a long moment, a revelation that stopped her for a second, "I didn't realize it until it was too late and he was dead and I don't care if he was in love with me because it wasn't like that, you know that." He said, and Hermione gave a firm nod, "And hell, we were only thrown together for a short time but his friendship felt so much more than Blaise's- who was my supposed best friend- ever was. I used the stone; I shouldn't have, but I did, I hoped I'd see him. I wanted to more than anything else but I didn't and I just have to accept I'm not going to see him again. And I've been an ass because he's gone forever now and I love you, Merlin, you know that but there are tiny moments, tiny awful moments where I almost wish he'd survived instead of you. Fuck, I just miss him and I don't know if he ever knew how much i…"

"I think he knows," Hermione said softly, because that's all she felt she could respond too.

"Don't hate me," Draco asked.

"Because you wish he was here sometimes? Don't you think I do too? Don't you think there are moments I wonder if I'm throwing my life away when someone like Colin or Elizabeth would have gotten so much more out of it?" She whimpered, "I think those thoughts every day, Draco."

"I worry I'll never have a friend like that again," Draco said, looking up at the light to try to keep from tearing up, "Even if he was a Gryffindor. My life seems to be full of you all somehow," He added with a wry smile.

"We should probably go back out there, you should probably apologize to that guy." Hermione gave a long sigh, "Not that I disagree with your actions completely, but we're public faces now. Otherwise it will be all over the news and who knows what."

Draco scoffed, "I'm a Malfoy. I've been creating scandal my entire life."

TGG

The last two funerals Hermione had an equal sense of dread and joy about; only Pike and Pansy's left, which meant that she was so close to cleansing her hands of this mess, but how could she sit there and pretend to be contrite about the deaths of these two monstrous individuals?

"I have a question for you," Hannah said as she put on her mascara, "I don't get it. Pike?"

"What?"

"You were so...insistent to take over his eulogy. I'm guessing it's not because you wanted to cuss him up out there, you're just not that person." She tilted her head, "Do you no longer hate him?"

"I do and I don't. It's all very complicated." Hermione frowned, "I don't hate him because I think about him, really do, and realize he was hardly 16, only fifteen. That's so young, you know? And these games are what he grew up with, unlike me and you truly. So I feel like I can't hate him because he was conditioned. Yet on the other hand, I can hate him because 15 isn't a baby and he was still in charge of his choices."

"He was sorta a dick, whatever the case."

"Yeah," Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, "But…" She pursed her lips. She remembered his face in that stolen moment of time, when it was clear he was terrified of dying, same as her. And Hermione had truly felt one and the same to him, a startling concept. And at the same time, she too had been so ready to die, as long as Draco survived, if Hannah survived. Hermione would have taken her last breath and gone on easily, "He helped us."

"I guess I'll never understand that," Hannah pooped the end of her mascara back in the tube, "But maybe we all start to look at things differently when death is upon us. You died almost twice. Did you have any revelations?"

"You can't even imagine," She mumbled.

TGG

And then, just like that, the funerals were over and Hermione was blinking into the light of a balmy summer afternoon...but she didn't feel happy.

She had thought after Pansy's funeral, she'd feel alright. She thought that it would be the final assurance that these games were done and she wouldn't have anything to do with them for an entire year but even then she'd never have to endure the games again. She thought seeing Pansy's loved ones around, mourning this girl and reminding her she hadn't always been so, would be bittersweet. She thought seeing Pansy's coffin would bring her a sense of joy even, a joy that maybe this girl had found peace but found it far away from Hermione. She thought she'd feel relieved, feel free, feel herself again.

But instead, she only felt empty.

And it was the darnest thing, she couldn't understand it for the life of her.

Before, these funerals had given her a sense of...a timeline. It was a something she had to do and the dates and times were very specific and there was no getting around that. Now, faced with the endless sea of free time, it intimidated her a tiny bit.

What does Hermione want to do? Well, Hermione had no idea what she really wanted to do, but curling up and sleeping for a long time felt like a valid option.

She noticed that Hannah had left rather swiftly from the ceremony, probably to avoid the hordes of paparazzi questioning her about her heroic last moments when she'd cleaved Pansy's head off, so perhaps she didn't blame her friend. She took a few steps, sighing heavily.

"Hermione! Merlin, there you are, I think now we should-," Draco said, catching her shoulder, but before he could finish, Hermione shook her head.

"You know, Draco? I think I'm sora burned out...I'm just going to go back to the cottage, get some tea, maybe start a new book." Hermione said quietly, just wanting to disappear from the crowds of people leaving the church. She began to walk away, expecting Draco to let her as he had been, but instead his fingers gripped her wrist.

"Draco, let me go," She said, irritation rising.

"No. You can't go." He said firmly, "I've let you do this for a month, Granger, and I thought it's all okay, the funerals are difficult and stressful and you deserve time to recuperate and you'd just go back to the Hermione I knew but you haven't. And I'm sick of letting this go on!"

"What do you mean? I'm not the same Hermione, Draco!" She hissed, feeling betrayed.

"Not entirely, no, of course, but the Hermione I knew loved her friends and wasn't ignoring them and everyone who cares about her!"

"And you're the resident expert on friends, I suppose," Hermione said bitingly.

"Guess what? I sorta have become that, yeah, because I've made friends," He saw Hermione's surprised face, "What in the world do you think I've been doing while leaving you alone? Not locking myself away in a room." That's almost exactly what Hermione had thought he'd done, and felt surprise he had apparently made friends.

"Well, just because you do that-," She began to say but Draco gave a hard shake of his head.

"Nope, nope, nope." He began forcefully dragging her in the opposite direction of where she wanted to be heading, "We're going out somewhere."

"I'm not dressed for going out!" Hermione objected.

"Already taken care of." Draco said, unfazed.

"I don't think this is necessary, you know."

"Oh, but it is."

Realizing swiftly she wasn't getting out of this, she just pouted, "Can you at least tell me where we're going?" She grumbled.

Draco had drug her to a floo, and sent her a half-smirk, grabbed some powder and said a location she never thought he'd go willingly, much less with the confidence he did, "The Burrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh i wasn't sure where this particular chapter was going to end, but I like this. The funerals are a huge part of moving on and accepting what's happened and facing deaths, so I'm fine with it taking up an entire chapter. There are obviously some loose threads left to tie up, but those will happen. I don't want to set a date this will be finished by since I know I NEVER make those, so let's just say it will be done soon and hope the next update won't be years away?
> 
> And, since this is the second to last chapter, be on the look-out for a Seamione related one-shot coming before the last chapter. It's nearly done, so that is my next order of things to write, so that should be done soonish. Or, we'll see. I'm taking another creative writing course this semester and I kinda throw myself into original stuff when I do that, which isn't a bad thing, but I sincerely hope I'm not talking to ya'll again as far away as the new year XD


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